Demon in my Soul
by Japyra
Summary: What is a person if they cannot protect the ones they care about? As Harry enters his 6th year of Hogwarts he is faced with starcrossed destiny. Impossible choices and strange people cause view of good and evil to blur as a word rises: Sacrafice.
1. Golden Grave, Sodden Funeral

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He stood tall, and yet bent with inner turmoil. The ancient trees of Silva de Sinus Carmen did not glisten along the sides, nor did the vivid colors of the summer flowers burst forth. No sound of ears resounded, nor sight of dawn appeared. The rain washed into him a numbness that had almost been forgotten. It was easy to forget, to forget to remember that he was here because... death? Dead, it was true and yet not, a strange misunderstanding that faded into bitter admittance. His eyes scanned around so that the faint gray twilight that accompanies wet July rain would give forth to the haunting spectacle.

Hundreds of people, perhaps even thousands, would be at this very spot in a few short moments. But for now, only a chosen number lit the gloom. Magical candles flickered, though it was not the rain that affected them. Perhaps it was the stifled cries in the air, or the sullen faces of the people in the wide forest. A large statue stood in front of them, made of the finest gold just to be sodden by the weather. Still, the metal shimmered when the hiding sun peaked over the tree tips. The artisan was beautiful and clear in daylight, but the tears from the sky blurred its magnificent form. Still, the watchers did not care. It was not the grander of the statue that made it so close to their hearts, but rather the symbol.

It stood for a life, different from any other that has been lived. A life that carved a pathway to freedom, a life that brought light burning into the depth of shadow. It stood for a choice, one so unexpected and startling that fate itself could not grasp it. A choice thats immenseness filled every pulse of worlds both living and dead. It stood for death, the death of a person that should not have died. The death of self, of morale, and of the fine line between good and evil that never truly existed. Mirrors of power and weakness had been shot into the craft, power to conquer destiny and death, power to fight when all had lost, power to find a spirit so long lost in the abyss of pain and time. Weakness, to know the end of a battle, weakness to bear the weight of life. Magic spun into its welding, tales of a second great war, of creatures beyond this world, and an ancient force deeper then can be imagined. History and heritage ran deep into its golden melting, ties of blood binding people in ways unexplained, history repeating down its own lines. Wisps of things that never came to be hammered onto its smooth surface. Above all however, a finding lay in its core. A finding of love, and life, of self and truths.

No tomb was made, for the one who died could never have been imprisoned in the darkness of death, buried under earth. No, they would be given to the sky, and the forest, and all life that lived because of them. A funeral, the tormented expressions and oppressive atmosphere suggested it. But, as he looked up he saw something glistening on a tree branch. It may have been a trick of the wind that made the large bird seem to stand out against the rain, a vivid shape of crimson color. It remained there long enough for him to be sure it was there, and then vanished back into the grayness it came from.

That was when he knew, when they all knew. Every man, woman, and child standing in the damp Silva de Sinus Carmen understood. This was no funeral, for death had been defied, one very last fight. For though the body was killed, the spirit of that single person who shaped the life of everything to come, that soul still carried out. It was borne in the blood of some, the memories of others, and the breath of everything that is. For perhaps they had been right. Perhaps some people cannot truly die.

Yet, though this revelation is now dawned upon all present, perhaps the dear reader should learn of this story. It is the tale, of this person, the lives of those close. And it all begins on a very ordinary, seemingly boring street called Pivet Drive...

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A/N- It is a short Prologue, but I didn't want to give too much away, anyways hope you liked it. Please review if you have any comments or questions!


	2. Phoenix of Sky is Seen in Red Dawn

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A raven-haired boy walked down the dim streets of Pivet Drive. The boy, not yet 16, found himself doing this often. He had been warned, of course, of the dangers of walking alone night. When the neighbors slept and dreamed their silly dreams of power, money, and petty fame. When the lamplights flickered out and even Dementors had once prowled, and everything that went bump came out. For this particular youth, these dangers included more then just that. It included an evil wizard at named Voldemort, a group of dispassionate humanoids called Death Eaters, and numerous other magical beings. Still, this teen walked the streets. It had been a long time since he was afraid of anything. Ever since...

Harry Potter mentally sighed. He hated thinking of Sirius, his wonderful godfather, his parent's best friends. His death kept playing again and again in his mind. What he could have done different, what could have gone different, it all was shown to him. There was no end to his torment. For when the dreams faded, when the thoughts slipped his mind, the guilt came as a doom hound at his throat. How dare he forget that which he did. _After all, Sirius's death was his fault._

A sharp shot of pain snapped him out of his latest daydream. Harry swore as blood trickled down his leg. He had scraped against a trashcan lid. Harry flung the lid far into the darkness and then heard a faint rustle. He froze, his mind instantly going to when Sirius had taken on hid dog-form to see him here. Of course he had thought him the Grim, but still. It seemed like an eternity ago. A happier time, a happier place.

But of course; no shaggy, black dog appeared from the gloom. Instead a beautiful bird came into view. Harry gaped in surprise at the creature. He had seen one before, but never here; not at perfectly normal Pivet Drive. He had striking euphoria, suddenly, that whenever something came to Perfect Pretty Pivet Drive, it was almost always bad, or at least Potter had thought it ill at that time.

Yet this visitor was a phoenix, a smaller one then Dumbledore's bird. With dark red, maroon, plumage of life-blood; and a beak of early dawn's golden shafts. The wise eyes were a gentle ice-blue, searching farther than flesh, and at the same time, far too human looking.

"Er... Come here birdie... what are you doing all the way out here?" Harry called to it.

The small bird approached him without fear, seeming to understand. It finally came up to perch lightly on Harry's shoulder. The small weight was familiar to him.

"So tell me, who sent you? Er... Dumbledore, no he would just use his magic to Appariate here or something. So did Voldemort send you? Are you some kind of trap."

The phoenix stared back silently, with solemn pale eyes.

"I have my wand, and I already know about Animagus, my godf—" The emerald-eyes boy swallowed hard.

An innocent by standing pebble got the blunt of Harry's anger as he kicked it hard across the empty lot.

"Whatever, look if you are some Death Eater or whatever, I will fight you and right now I am hardly in the best of moods for..." _That is the shittiest threat I have ever heard. For what? You can't kill anyone, haven't got it in you..._ The boy-who-lived thought sourly.

There was a long pause filled with anguish and remorse. Then the small phoenix did something strange. It tightened its grip around Harry's shoulder, not letting the sharp talons bite in. And it opened its curved, summer sunrise mouth... and began to sing. The soft lamentation of the phoenix, haunting and majestic, echoing throughout strife and wounds of soul. The melody curled around his withering heart, soft hands caressing. The rhythm of it strewn through his diluted blood like fire, pounding against his skin. The high, soft tone of the bird sharpened his mind, clearing his senses so that way Harry could think, he could see and become aware again. _Am I going insane? _Potter wondered to the beautiful song that filled him until their was no more left. _Or am I just remembering what sanity is?_

The sound began to dwindle in volume, lower and lower down a hill until all of the Seeker's focus was upon it. It ended slowly, leaving wisps in the warm breeze.

The exotic bird looked deep into the jaded shafts of mortal eyes again, and this time it was satisfied. With one last note, a goodbye tug on the shoulder, it opened its glorious wings to the night heavens; and was gone.

The dark-haired youth watched the same speck of red against navy become smaller and smaller, rising up until it was no more. He felt a deep sense of peace and purpose again. Not really happiness, but Harry could carry on again. He could live again, with this.

"Thank you." He whispered to Sister Stars and Mother Moon; standing still for a moment before turning around; wondering who had sent him the creature and why.

Harry Potter walked back to his uncle's house; relived of his nightmares, but the small nip of guilt remained. Part of it, was directed to his friends as well. He climbed up through his window, sliding the glass up and slipping noiselessly onto the white carpet. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would be asleep right now. Dudley was out, prowling the streets for children to fight or people to impress. He glanced at the stack of un-opened letters from people. Not even Hermione's and Ron's had been opened. He hadn't seen a point to it. Harry had never been the best at lying in words, and telling them of his great sorrow, the alone burden he carried of Sirius's death would only concern them with more. So, with a weary sigh, Harry went through all the letters. They had become frantic towards the most recent. Harry shifted through them with sudden anxiety. They had been afraid for him. His always companion guilt smacked his head hard, and the green-eyed boy shook it off. Feeling sorry for himself was not going to help anyone. One letter caught his attention.

_Dear Harry,_

_Please write back Harry. We haven't seen or heard from you all month. I know that you must be sad Harry, but please, I can't lose you too! Mail anyone, anyone please Harry! If I don't here from you by the end of the month, I am coming to you. Please Harry, for pity's sake write! We are all so worried about you!_

_-Remus Lupin_

Tomorrow was the end of the month. He quickly scribbled out a note saying he was fine and woke a very annoyed Hedwig to deliver it to Remus before the night was up. She rewarded him with a friendly peck, however, good to receive some notice from him. Then Harry collapsed in his bed, knowing that this would probably be the last night he would not dream of Sirius. That bird, that wonderful dark red phoenix, it had given him a chance to see again. It had given him a chance to live on again.

But why?

He couldn't figure out why it had happened, but Harry decided what he was going to do with his new-found gift. He was older now, and stronger than before. The teen promised himself that he would fight this time, and he would win. To prevent any memory relapses from deterring him,Harry took out a piece of quill and ink and silently wrote on his left arm.

_I, Harry James Potter, do swear that I will never abandon my friends, protect all from harm and danger, and kill Voldemort for the memory of all who have died._

As he wrote furiously(wondering if it was foolish to engrave one's name on one's own arm) Potter accidentally pressed to deep. The letter 'm' from memories came out in blood. He swore and tore off a piece of old cloth as a bandage. He would clean it in the morning.

"I am going to have a scar from that." He muttered to himself. But at least he would never forget now. He would bear that mark until it was fulfilled.

§

"Boy, inferred freak; get down here at once." Uncle Vernon's shouts awoke Harry Potter the next morning. To his great surprise, the clarity the phoenix brought was still there, but the edge of pain was amplified.

"What am I being blamed for this time?" Harry wondered to himself as he stumbled down the steps drowsily.

At the bottom of the steps was a sight that Harry had not expected to see. No shattered glass, no suddenly wilted flower plants; but a ghostly pale Aunt Petunia, a cowering hunk of Dudely, and a beet red Uncle Vernon, pointing to a man standing at their doorway.

Remus Lupin looked bad, far worse then before. His blond hair was graying and lifeless, deep lines etched his face and pulled his thin lips into a permanent frown. Blue-gray eyes were shadowed and tattered cloak torn up to the hems added to his misfit look.

"Harry, your alright." His voice was thin and hoarse, but he tried to smile.

It stabbed at Harry to see how hard he tried to smile. "P-professor Lupin... what are you? My letter did you..."

Remus nodded. "I got your letter, but we all decided I would come get you anyways. We were... worried about you and thought you might like to come back... to the Grimauld Place."

Harry's mouth was dry for a moment. Before, leaving the Dursley's would have been a wonderful thing; but now... going back to Sirius's old home...

Harry Potter might have stayed at his uncle's house; and the future events may have never taken place. But at that exact moment, Dudley decided to take another step back from the strange wizard who had arrived at his house. As he stepped, he hit the fragile mirror hanging from the wall. The mirror shattered, and a piece of glass struck at Harry's arm; right in the tender skin from the scar. In a flash of pain Harry remembered his promise.

"I'll go." Harry burst out right before Uncle Vernon could yell.

Time froze as all eyes turned to Harry. "I'll go." He said calmer now. "Let me go get my stuff Professor."

As Harry climbed up the steps an angry voice followed him. "You bloody will not!" Uncle Vernon roared.

"All summer all you did is stay locked in your room muttering to yourself and taking walks in the middle of the night. You have done nothing to help this family, and since you seem to be feeling better you will stay and help!" He continued.

"It's not my fault that I didn't feel well." Harry replied coldly.

"Really, and what is it that could bother you so much, eh? You can't be sick for a month!" He taunted.

"My godfather died." Harry screamed out the words, hating them.

Silence fell over them all. Uncle Vernon's mouth hung open with a scream that would never come. Aunt Petunia gave him a look of almost sympathy. Dudely looked around confused, but Remus gave a haunting look of sheer pain and sorrow. The loss had hit him hard.

Harry bit his lips as he gathered his few possessions and Hedwig, then walked back down to meet Remus, not saying a word to anyone ad he walked out the door.

"We are using porkey." Lupin said finally.

Harry nodded numbly. "Yes professor."

Remus gave a half-smile. "Don't call me that anymore. I'm not your professor. Just Lupin, or Remus. Whichever you prefer."

He just nodded, and then looked up as a flash of red streaked the sky. He saw the dark-red phoenix staring at him from a tree; its icy eyes staring down at him asking,

_"Are you alright with him?"_

Harry gave a small smile at the bird and whispered, "I'm fine now. Thank you." He realized it was true. He was fine, he had found a purpose again; and soon he would be with his friends. He would be part of the fight again, and nothing could stand in his way.

§

"Harry!" Tonks screamed as she ran over to hug him while knocking over a chair. Her hair was long and purple today.

"Hi, I missed you too." Harry gasped between her tight embrace.

"Tonks you are going to strangle the child; off with you!" Fred and George suddenly appeared.

"Hey, Harry." They greeted in unison.

"What is all the... Harry!" Ron walked down the steps drowsily; lighting up at the sight of his friend.

Ron raced down the stairs with a grin. "How are you mate?"

Harry smiled back. "Fine, you?"

"I'll alright besides the fact that no one can let a lad sleep here." He cast a meaningful glance at his twin brothers.

"No one prevented you from sleeping, my brother. You **choose** to wake up after we lit off the Rainbow Rockets." George said innocently.

"You launched a bloody rocket into my bedroom!" Ron retorted indignantly.

"Harry!" Another scream broke through as Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry. "How are you my dear? Why you are all skin and bones! Were those horrible muggels feeding you?"

In truth, Harry had hardly eaten after Sirius's death. It was hard to tell under Dudley's baggy clothes; but he was far skinnier then normal. Too skinny.

"Yes, but their food isn't as good as yours Mrs. Weasley." He lied and told the truth in the same breath.

She blushed. "Now there; Oh, Ginny dear come down now."

Ginny Weasly padded down the staircase.

"Hello Harry." She said with a smile, but her tone betrayed her. She was to honest to hide her emotions as well as the others. They had all been worried sick about him; Harry realized. They acted like he had some horrible disease to be pitied. He wondered if that was how Lupin felt sometimes.

"Well now Harry; Let me show you to your room." Remus came back inside. Harry nodded and followed him up the winding steps.

"This place looks great." Harry tried to break the somber silence. It was true. All the cobwebs and dust had been removed from the house; and new furniture gleamed against elegantly colored walls and coordinating decorations. It was simple, roomy, and filled with neutral colors. The house now reminded him a little of some ancient monastery, somber, calm, and filled with artifacts unknown. Still, a shadow hung about the place. The shadow of death.

"Yes, we have made quite a few new renovations." Lupin gave a small smile.

They passed the screaming portrait of Sirius's mother. The black hair reminded the boy painfully of his loss.

"And some still need to be made." He added ruefully.

They climbed the rest of the staircases until they reached the last door on the fourth floor.

"I know that you usually room with Ron, but Sirius... in his will... he said that he wanted you to have his room." The words were choppy and strained from the man's mouth.

Harry lost his voice and nodded. _Sirius's room? I don't deserve this! It is my fault he is dead!_

To add to his guilt, the room itself, was grand. The floor was rich mahogany wood; and the large, king-sized bed was covered in a plush dark green quilt. A single, big window faced the sunset; and photos of Harry, Lupin, Lily and James, decorated his walls. The walls themselves were a lighter ash wood with dark green border and a mural of a forest on one wall. The mural caught his eye. It was a truly magnificent painting, with tall, dark trees bending in the moonlight; their leaves painted silver. Three creatures ran through the forest. One was a shining silver wolf; with a powerful build and wild eyes. Slightly behind, and to its left was a big dog as dark as night, silhouetted by the moonlight. Its movement was playful and daring, as well as the amused eyes. The third creature was a shining stag, soaked with moonlight so it glowed white. It had a proud face and cunning eyes, prancing ahead of the wolf.

Lupin went on talking as Harry kept looking. "He wanted you to have it last summer; but we convinced him that you would rather sleep with the boys. You still can if you want, but I thought... You might like it in here." He cleared his throat.

Harry was silent for a time; staring speechlessly at the picture and who it undoubtedly was.

"Sirius had it painted... when we were in Hogwarts." Remus said quietly as he came to stand beside Harry. "Of course, that looks nothing like me..." He added bitterly. Then, "There was a picture of Peter here too, right at his heel." Lupin pointed to a dark clump of grass that undoubtedly covered up a shy rat. "But when we returned here he couldn't stand the sight of it, and had it re-painted..."

Harry was speechless, but felt as though he had to say something. "It is beautiful." _Stupid, of course it is! _

"I think so too." Remus whispered, sadness filling his gray-blue eyes.

Harry felt as though he had to do something for his father's last friend, help him in some way, but before Harry could move Lupin was at the door; the fake smile gracing his lips.

"Make yourself at home. We'll have tea in about an hour."

§

The next few days passed rather uneventfully for Harry. He mostly just stayed up in Sirius's room and looked through old pictures his godfather had. Harry had tried to play games with Ron, like wizard chess and practice flying; but Ron always gave him this funny look, as if he was about to start raving mad. So he choose to stay to himself now.

"How can I help my friends if I can't even talk to them?" Harry asked the walls in frustration.

A faint knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Harry.. Er…. Hermione is here." Ron's voice cracked through the door.

Harry gave a small smile. _Hermione, good old Hermione. She won't act like I'm crazy at least. She will yell at me though for not answering her letters…_

Harry opened his door and walked down the steps to see Hermione, dressed in muggle clothes; standing at the door with a huge suitcase.

"We'll take that up for you." Fred and George said together as they cast a levitation spell on the suitcase and brought it up the stairs.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed as she ran over to a very red Ron.

"And Harry." She gave him a flashing smile. "You never returned my letters. We were worried about you!" She chastened him in her old manner.

"Good to see you too." Harry replied with a smile.

"Hermione how good to see you." Mrs. Weasely bustled in. "Come on now Ron, show her to her room."

"Right." Ron said quickly. "Come on then."

Hermione and Harry followed Ron up to her room.

"You share it with Ginny, sorry." Ron said.

She just shrugged. "So how have you both been?"

Ron looked away from Harry as he said, "Fine."

"I'm alright except for the fact that everyone here has been avoiding me." Harry said with a glare at Ron.

"Hey you stay locked up in your bloody room!" Ron replied indignantly.

"Well whenever I come out you all look at me as if I have two heads!" Harry retorted.

"Both of you stop it!" Hermione snapped. "This is the first five minutes I have been here and you cannot stop arguing!"

They both fell silent.

"Now, is it at all possible that you have been avoiding each other?" She began again.

"It's not my fault!" Ron began angrily.

"Oh, grow up!" Hermione said. "Were not blaming either of you, not stop bickering like children!"

Ron glared angrily at the floor.

She then turned her attention to Harry. "Harry," Her tone had lessened. "You never wrote once all summer. We were all worried about you. Professor Lupin came to your house once, and your Uncle told him that you were locked up on your room raving mad. They have a right to be worried about you."

Harry looked down. "Lupin never told me that he came."

"Professor Lupin isn't so talkative now." Ron added slowly.

"What do you mean by that?" The boy-who-lived asked.

"He took… he took Sirius's… death hard." Ron struggled to say.

Silence fell for a moment, and Harry was very conscience of the scar on his arm.

"Well, lets not worry about this now. It is obvious that Harry is sane and Ron isn't avoiding him anymore; so lets go… flying." Hermione finally said.

Harry and Ron gave each other surprised glances.

"But you hate flying." Ron asked.

"Fine, then you two will go flying while I read one of the books Professor McGonagall gave me." She sighed.

Ron shrugged. "Okay then. I'll go get a broom."

Harry stayed for a moment as Ron disappeared. "Thanks Hermione." He said gratefully.

She shrugged. "It isn't hard. You are both to thick-headed to see that."

Harry laughed for the first time since… As he ran off to get his Firebolt.

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	3. As the World Turns Anew,it is yet of Old

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Harry slumped into his bed; his body happily aching from the flying games.

"I'll sleep well tonight." He murmured as he pulled the sea of emerald covers over him.

A few moments later, indiscriminate to the sleeping mind; a light pressure at his feet startled him awake.

"What the-" Harry stopped as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could see the dim silhouette of a blood-red bird.

"Oh, it's you again." Harry sighed. He had not told anyone, not even Ron and Hermione about the phoenix. They would think him crazy or call it Dark Art. He should be wary; after Sirius's death he should be more careful, but the creature had an aura of peace and human-like eyes if understanding. He had a sincere trust in the creature.

"How did you get in?" He asked.

The window in his room remained shut, and his door closed.

"Are you just a hallucination?" He sighed and rubbed his temples.

The bird kept staring at him, an almost amused look.

"And what do you find so funny." He asked in mockery.

As an answer the bird flew closer and tapped him in his face gently.

"Am I funny eh?" The boy-who-lived wondered.

The scarlet creature pecked at the hidden scar on his arm, staring back with wise blue eyes.

"I know, I know. I'm not doing very good at my job am I?" Harry sighed. He stood up out of his bed and began pacing the room.

"I want to help Pro-… Lupin first. He is so depressed and lonely, but I don't know what I can do to help. I feel like I'm the only one who can help him because I'm the… the closest thing left he has of my father, but what can I do?" Harry continued pacing around the room, looking at the old pictures on the wall.

"My dad would know what to do… or Sirius… why did the have to die?" He said after a moment to the silent phoenix on the bed still.

"I would take Sirius's place… then Lupin wouldn't bee so upset… but no!" His voice grew bitterly. "I am the boy-who-lived! I have to stop Voldemort! All because of some stupid prophesy! It's Voldemort's fault! He is the reason Sirius and my parents are dead!" Harry was close to yelling now.

Scarlet creature remained still on his bed, icy eyes staring up with compassion and patience.

The last of the Potters sat down on an antique wooden chair and stared back at the large bird, small phoenix. As he calmed, it flew gently over to his shoulders, resting its slender head upon his cheek.

Harry stroked its neck. "I suppose I should name you now then."

The creature simply stared back at him.

"How about… Blood?"

The phoenix stayed silent.

"No, to cruel. Ice then? No. "Harry paused looking over the creature. "Scarlet, Flame, Bob, Joe, Sally…"

If a bird could laugh then it would be doing so; for the ice blue eyes had a sparkling light of laughter fluttering around in them.

"Are you laughing at me?" He asked in mock anger.

The phoenix gave him a playful peck on the hand.

"I suppose I am dreadful at this name thing though… Come to think of it; I don't even know if you are a female or a male! How am I going to name you?"

After a moment, Harry quieted and looked into the deep, questioning eyes of the bird.

"You want me to help him don't you, to help Lupin?" He asked quietly, reeling in his own sub- conscience.

A soothing stroke against his chin was all the answer Harry needed.

"How though?"

The magnificent wings of the bird opened and it hopped onto his head; giving him a final nudge on the hand before approaching the window. It was telling him the time had come. Clear night skies had called the red dawn to fly again, and it answered without hesitation to leave the frequent host it was attempting to help.

"You got in my yourself, why can't you get out?" The boy asked

The phoenix simply sat and waited for Harry to open up the window. The face relaxed, poise patient. With a sigh, the human did open the sliding window. It gave in after a few moments of grunting, ignorantly squealing from being awoken from its bed of dust.

The scarlet creature glided out into the dark sky, hurriedly rushing the gray rays of early dawn onto center stage.

Harry Potter sighed and collapsed in his bed, taking the last few hours of well-needed sleep.

§

Days became weeks as routine set into Harry. Every morning he rose at dawn's early canvas of gold, to learn new spells with Lupin. They would go outside into the grassy field behind the house; fighting against the chilly morning air and rainbow dew drops that enthralled and encroached upon them. Outside was the safest place however, away from anyone who might be harmed by a mis-placed spell or stray fire.

After a time, Mrs. Weasely would call them to breakfast. He would sit and chat to Ron and Hermione over buttered toast, smoldering bacon slices, and warm tea; before he was off with Remus again to study Occlumency.

Occlumency was by far the most grueling part of the day. Harry would go with Lupin into a dim, quiet room an unpainted white with no adornments. It offered no distractions and gave no answers. This was the best place to study. He would shut his mind as best he could; before Remus would try and penetrate it. If Lupin did, which was the majority, then Harry would hear Sirius's voice; and awake on the ground and a shaking professor would pick him up. But if he succeeded and blocked Remus from his mind; the teacher would tell him a story about his parents and Sirius at school. It was those tales that fueled him in the daunting study. Wisps of laughter far a gone that whispers in his night dreams. Stories of the infamous Marauders and Jame's incessant wooing of Lily Evans in comparison to his subjective torture of Severus. It was that which made him pick himself up each time; that and the scar on his arm. The warm-blooded fury that pounced at ever mention of **_his_** name. Voldemort.

From dark a dawn rises, and the tumultuous fog would lift got tea time.Harry usually just rested during it; before going off with Ron and Hermione to do homework and practice Quidditch. Sometimes it amazed him that despite all his training, the great weight upon his shoulders, and the cloud that shifted over his thoughts, Harry James Potter was still a part of himself. A teenage wizard with a handy nag as a Seeker and a slight slacker in the homework department. Amazed, and gladdened him. Harry had to be sure the world was still going on outside the complex spell-weaving the mind-breaking of his daily life. His friends showed their concern only in their attitudes toward him. Hermione offered more to help him with his homework and no longer nagged him. (As much.) Ron would take breaks in their game and made sure that he never got to tired.

Lastly of all important hours, supper would be ready and Harry would talk with various members of the Order. No news of Voldemort had some in; but he had found out that Hagrid had gone on a mission to do with some odd creature and Snape was still trying to get recognized by the Death Eaters. The bit of information that interested him most was that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was not filled yet. With the dawning war there were many applicants; but Dumbledore had become picky and refused them all.

"Perhaps Lupin will become our teacher." Hermione said one night while they talked.

Harry shook his head. "I've already asked him. He refuses to even apply for the job again."

"Why? I am sure Dumbledore would let him in." Ron added.

Harry shrugged. "He says that the last thing Dumbledore needs is owls coming in from angry parents."

"Such blind prejudice." Hermione voiced angrily. "He is by far out best teacher and yet all those… people won't let him teach just because he is a little bit different!"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, but not everyone knows him like we do. I mean, werewolves are dangerous Hermione. They aren't trying to be unfair."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but Harry stopped the fight.

"He also said he could do more in the Order."

She sighed. "Well, then I wonder who it will be."

Ron shrugged. "No since worrying over it. I just hope they don't give much homework."

Harry grinned and Hermione gave an exasperated sigh.

"Well, Ron is right. We shouldn't worry about it. Let's all go to bed." Harry finally said.

All three agreed and headed to different doors.

Harry climbed the steps slowly; he was exhausted and his mind brimming with questions. He almost ran into his door when he finally got there.

Slipping, into his room; he looked quickly around to see if his feathered friend was anywhere to be seen. He hadn't seen it since it first came to the Grimmauld Place. He wondered what attracted it to him.

_Just another question to sleep on._ Harry thought with a yawn as he collapsed in his bed; soon to meet a tell-a-tale dream...

§

_§_

"_What do you mean, you don't know?" A sickeningly familiar voice hissed._

"_M-master…" Wormtail choked in his dark master's grasp._

_Voldemort threw him down, a disgusted look crossing his reptilian face._

"_You are useless!" _

"_M-master, p-p-please forgive me… No one can find out… no one knows…" Peter sniveled on the ground._

_A strong kick from the dark lord stopped his rambling. _

"_Insolent fool! Dumbledore takes weeks to choose a new teacher and when he finally does; no one knows who it is? Lies!"_

_Peter sobbed. "I am sorry! Give me one more week, I am your most loyal servant… I brought you back." He seemed to hope that this would earn him mercy, but instead it drew a cruel laugh from his master's lipless mouth._

"_You? You have done but two things in my service, and you have also failed me and hid as a rat among my enemies. You are a weak rat and your time has run out!" With that a pale hand drew a long brown wand._

"_Crucius!" The spell was drowned by horrible screams as Wormtail flailed on the floor in agony._

_ª_

"Harry, Harry, HARRY!"

Harry Potter awoke with a start as someone screamed his name and shook him.

"W-what?" He looked around the room, his eyes adjusting to the dark. It was still the middle of the night.

Ron was by his bed; he had been the one shaking him. Remus was panting from yelling at him, and Hermione stood fearful at the other side of him.

"Y-You had a dream. You were screaming." Hermione murmured.

"Something 'bout a teacher and then you started having a fit or something." Ron added hoarsely.

Harry realized that he was tense and sweating. He forced his heart rate to calm down and took deep breaths; reminding himself that he was safe here.

What is it that you saw Harry?" Lupin looked down at him with concerned gray eyes.

"It was Peter." He began. "H-He was talking to Voldemort," Ron flinched at the name. "He was begging for another chance… But Voldemort said that he had failed… Said that it was to easy to find out…"

"Yes, yes." Remus urged.

"To find out who the new teacher was…" The-boy-who-lived looked up with questioning eyes at his teacher.

Lupin sighed and ran his hand through his prematurely thinning hair. "No one knows who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is. Dumbledore refuses to tell. Why would Voldemort want to know about it though?"

"I bet he had his own spies apply for the job." Hermione said suddenly.

Moony gave her a warm smile. "Very good Ms. Granger. Of course, Dumbledore anticipated it and he has special…screening for all his applicants."

Hermione blushed at the compliment, but nodded. "Of course."

The man sighed and shook his head. "Well, I'll tell the others about this. The best thing we can do is go to sleep."

Ron and Hermione nodded and trotted off to their separate beds, Lupin following. He paused at the doorway and peered back at the teen in the bed.

"Oh, And Harry."

Harry looked up instinctively. "Yes… Lupin."

Remus nodded at his name. "You are taking Occlumency to block these images. Whether or not they are helpful, the fact still remains that they are dangerous. Voldemort can alter them however he likes, and you cannot trust them. You must block them out, understand?"

The unspoken words where what hit Harry hardest. The fact that Sirius had died because of a dream, the silent message between them.

"Yes Professor." Harry lapsed.

"Goodnight Harry." He replied softly as he walked out the door.

§

Harry stayed up, staring blankly at the ceiling, thinking of the dream and Sirius; not trying to sleep. He knew that he would regret it in the morning, but the morning seemed a world away.

§

Harry's eyes lifted in fading light. He wondered what time it was. It was still dark, so maybe it was before dawn. _That would make sense. _He shook the sleep from his head and crept downstairs.

He found Ron and Hermione sitting by the fireplace, talking quietly. The redhead was sitting across the couch, lounging while his face was oddly serious. Brown eyes were focused completely on the brunette in front of him, lips pulled between speech and thinness to produce grunts of agreement or disagreement. The brunette's hair curled down in smoothed pieces, Harry remembering for a second the bushy-haired, buck-toothed first year. She had changed in more than just appearance though. Even though Hermione was debating something with Ron, the watcher could see the casual ease they dealt with it. Words were not meant for hurt anymore. Not wanting to disrupt the firelit moment, Harry stood still. Then Ron sneezed and caught his best mate's figure in the pale corner of his eye.

"What time is it?" Harry asked as he walked up, acting calm while loosing a war with a grin.

They both turned to him and smiled back.

"Hello Sleepyhead." Hermione teased.

"Hi, you slept so late we thought you were dead or something." Ron exclaimed.

Hermione shot him a glare and Ron looked down, ears reddening.

"Why what happened?" Harry asked, ignoring the last remark.

"After last night Lupin said that you should probably be allowed to sleep in." She told him.

"And you have been asleep all day. It is past seven o'clock!" Ron added.

"Seven?" Harry thought bemused. He wasn't to surprised though, he hadn't gone to sleep until four in the morning.

There was a moment of private thoughts, not voiced in the air at ease with the mutual silence. Finally, it was broken.

"Hey, let's go out for ride." Ron said suddenly.

Harry and Hermione followed him out to the grassy field and the two boys caught a last minute game before it became too dangerous to ride safely. The moon was but a sickle in the sky, a blessing for one as a curse to the two broomstick riders.

"Well I see your finally awake." Remus said as he walked in with a small smile.

"Yeah, thanks." Harry replied, windswept night-spun hair, flushed golden cheeks and pearled sweat classical signs of his last activity.

"Harry I would like to talk to you." He said after a moment.

The-boy-who-lived took one last glance a his friends and shrugged; following Lupin.

§

"Sirius talked about you… all the time last year." Remus began as they strolled along the dark streets. The pavement was worn smooth, yet little rocks rebelled up under their feet. The sky was darkened to an obsidian navy, lit by few silver stars. A crisp England wind stretched through the streets, pressing to get passed the jackets of two muggle-dressed wizards.

"He kept saying how much you reminded him of James, and how proud he was of you… and how much better you were then Severus." Lupin gave a rueful smile. "He loved you like a brother Harry."

Harry looked down to the pavement, eyes blurring with tears, while thoughts raced fuzzily.

_Why is Professor Lupin saying this? Does he want to make me hurt? Does he blame me for Sirius's death? _

"Do you wonder why I am telling you this?" He finally asked.

Harry nodded numbly.

"Whenever we practice Occlumency and I break into your mind; do you know what I see?" Moony asked softly.

Harry had a guess. "Sirius, right before he died."

Remus nodded. "Or Sirius as he died, or Sirius in the fireplace or some other memory of him."

The silence that passed for a moment seemed to hold a question.

"Harry I know that you love Sirius as much as I do; and I know that you feel guilty about his death… But… He once told me; during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, that he wished he could be doing it in your place; so that way nothing could happen to you. He said that he could take anything just to know that you were safe…" His voice trailed off and he wiped his eyes quickly.

Harry blinked hard, trying not to scream as he felt coldness drip down his cheek.

"It was Voldemort that led you to the Department of Mysteries; it was he that used your love of your godfather to capture you. What he didn't count on; however, was Sirius' affection for you. Sirius died, not because of you, or even because of Bellatrix, but because he choose between his life and yours; and he choose yours." Lupin stopped walking, and looked straight at Harry under the faint moonlight. It silhouetted his form; making his lines darken and sad gray eyes shadow under long graying locks of caramel hair.

"And you cannot waste the life he gave you by mopping around and feeling guilty. Harry, you have to train, you have to prepared to fight for your life. You have to live. Fight for Ron and Hermione, and the rest of the Weaselys, and Dumbledore and the Order! Fight for whatever you like, but swear to me Harry; that you will never, never give up!"

Harry looked into the eyes of the last of his parent's friends and whispered;

"I swear."

§


	4. There is No Place Like Home

The rest of the summer past quickly for Harry, with only one serious event that occurred on his birthday. As he sat in the familiar red train and gazed out the window, the memory of that day came to him.

♠

"_Good morning Harry." Mr. Weasely said as he passed him on the steps. "Happy Birthday."_

_Harry blinked. He had forgotten his birthday entirely in his training._

"_Harry!" Hermione suddenly came running over to him. "Happy Birthday." She said with a smile._

"_Yeah, Happy Birthday mate- your almost an adult, well, at least in age." Ron said with a mischievous wink._

_Harry smiled at his friends as he followed them into the sitting room by the fireplace. It was filled with people from the Order and presents._

"_Happy Birthday!" They all shouted at once._

_Harry laughed, but a pang of guilt shot through him as he remembered Sirius in the fireplace. But Lupin was staring at him with a searching eye and he forced it to the back of his mind._

"_Are these all for me?" He asked finally._

_Everyone laughed. "No we only wanted you to see them," Tonks smiled. "Of course they are!"_

_Harry was pulled into the middle of the room and he sat with his friends at either side; opening presents._

_He had a magical bottle of hair dye that changed color and cut depending on the wearers mood from Tonks, a new owl cage from Kingsley, a book on various mythical creatures and another on broomsticks from Hermione, and a home-baked cake and his own golden snitch from the Weasely. _

_Then Lupin quietly stepped forward and handed Harry to packages._

"_The one wrapped in silver owls is from Dumbledore." He said. "And the one with the broomsticks is from me."_

_Harry looked at the two packages and opened the larger, rectangular one with broomsticks flying around on it first. It revealed a thick book with a velvet green cover and amber brown trimming. As Harry turned the first page he swallowed hard. Lupin's hand gently touched his shoulder._

"_What is it Harry?" Hermione asked who had noticed the sudden change in her friend._

_Harry passed the book to her and Ron. It was a photo album, and in it was a collage of his godfather. _

_They both looked up at him with sympathy and Ron murmured,_

"_He was a great guy."_

"_No time for tears Harry." Mooney whispered in his ear. _

_Harry nodded and opened the package from Dumbledore. It was small and circular, with magical silver owls that hooted up at him. In it was a small bottle, attached to a golden chain. The Bottle itself was clear with a golden symbol on the top, and some silver-blue liquid gently rippling around in it._

"_What is it?" Harry asked._

"_A bottle of phoenix tears, from his bird Fawkes." Remus answered._

_Harry stared at it with interest, and thought of his phoenix. He hoped that he would see it before Hogwarts. _

_After the presents there was talk and Mrs. Weasley's chocolate cake. As hours passed by and finally it was evening, Tonks suddenly walked up to him._

"_Hey, thanks for the hair dye." He said. Fred and George had appeared suddenly, and besides given him a new shape-shifting potion that temporarily turned you into an animal of your choice, had poured some of the dye into his hair. It was now shoulder-length and maroon. _

_Tonks nodded. "Your welcome." She hesitated and then said, "Will you come with me for a moment?"_

_Harry looked around. The party had ended and now it was only himself, Hermione, and Ron._

"_Okay." He said, nodding to Ron and Hermione that he was going for a minute._

_He followed Tonks into a room he had never been into. Inside, the interior was plain with hardwood flooring and dark blue walls. A bright lamp hung over a large wooden table, and seated around it were members of the Order._

_Harry looked at them all quizzically and his hair shifted to a dark green that spiked up._

_Lupin gave a small smile and stood up. "You are probably wondering why we called you here?"_

_Harry nodded._

_Remus gave a small sigh and continued. "Harry you are now sixteen, and no longer a child." He began. "You have lost your parents, and now your godfather." _

_The hair changed to midnight black, hooding his face._

"_But you have a destiny Harry. You are the only one who can defeat Voldemort."_

_Red streaks brushed through his hair, and it resumed his own messy style._

"_And here at the Order we fight against Death Eaters. But, now that you are sixteen, we would all like to ask you to join the Order of the Phoenix."_

_Harry stood, stunned for a moment. "W-what?"_

"_Harry, just listen for a moment. You need to know about Voldemort's whereabouts, and we need to protect you. You are an intelligent and mature person and we voted to let you into the Order, if you wish that is."_

_Harry thought about this all. He did not want any more responsibility, but being on the Order could help defeat Voldemort faster. He would no longer be in the dark, but being protected twenty-four-seven didn't appeal to him. But surely, they would not bother him at Hogwarts. And then they're where no more Dursely's..._

"_I'll do it." Harry said slowly. "I'll join."_

_The people in the room nodded grimly and Harry was allowed into the meeting._

§

_When night came Harry crept up to his room and was greeted by a friendly visitor._

_The phoenix had silently flown to his shoulder and rubbed against his cheek, comforting him with its lightweight._

_Harry didn't try to talk; he just slumped onto his bed and stroked the slender neck, feeling numb and used-up. Sleep seemed useless._

_Finally, after an unknown number of hours, the creature gave him a light peck on the hand and nosed him down into his bed. Harry fell into the soft cushion and was only half-aware of the sound of the phoenix flying gracefully out of his room_

§

"Harry?" Hermione called softly.

Harry turned quickly and saw Hermione and Ron eying him worriedly.

"Sorry, I was just...thinking."

"About the Order?" Ron asked.

"Stupid people, as if you didn't have enough to do with exams and training!" Hermione said angrily.

"I choose to join Hermione." Harry replied gently.

"Oh, as if you had a choice. I mean, what were you supposed to say? Oh, I am sorry. I don't feel like joining you in your fight against Voldemort?" She vented.

Harry shook his head. "You can't understand Hermione. I did it because of the prophecy, because it is my destiny." His voice sounded hollow to him.

"It's not fair!" Ron exclaimed. "It is all because of that bloody Professor Trelawny! See into the future, open your inner eye! Bloody lunacy! You don't have to go fight Voldemort. Let Dumbledore do it or someone else, someone stronger!"

"No Ron, I do. I have to do it and I know I have to. Don't you see? If I don't defeat Voldemort then he wins! He goes on and destroys everything! He has already killed Sirius and my parents! If I don't kill him then everyone who died will never be avenged. He will kill everyone- you, Hermione, your family, Lupin, everyone! I have to do this!" He yelled.

A sudden noise made all three hush, as the compartment door slid open.

The person who entered wore a long, scarlet cloak that fell to their feet and had a golden feather latch on the hood, which covered their face. So, all you could tell was that the person was medium-height and relatively slender. The stranger seemed to glance at the three teens before turning around and sitting on the seat across of them.

"Who is that?" Ron whispered to his two friends.

Harry shrugged, and Hermione eyed the person warily.

"Not many people come onto this train wearing that." She said softly.

Ron shifted uneasily and Harry watched the person for any signs of movement.

The rest of the train ride commenced in almost complete silence, with Ron and Hermione whispering to each other and Harry gazing out the window. The stranger didn't move or talk to them until it was time to change. As Hermione left for her compartment and the boys exchanged glances of whether to leave or not; the person stood swiftly and strode out of the compartment.

They never came back in.

§

"Harry we're here." Ron called to him as they loaded off the train. Harry shook himself from his thoughts and grabbed Hedwig with his suitcase; following Ron and Hermione into a carriage. He saw the skeletal-horses again and thought instantly of Sirius, but forced it to the dark depths of his mind.

"Who was that?" Ron asked as they stepped into the carriage with Ginny.

"Who was who?" She asked.

"We saw a hooded stranger on the train. Did you notice him?" Harry asked.

Ginny seemed to think for a moment before saying, "Yes. They passed through our compartment, but it was full. Why?"

"They came to ours and it was creepy." Hermione said. "I have never seen anyone dress like that on the Hogwarts Express."

"You don't think it is a spy do you?" Ginny asked, wide-eyed.

"I don't know." Hermione replied grimly.

Further conversation was stalled as the carriage opened and the four-some walked up to the great castle.

"Home." Harry whispered to himself.

§

They went down into the Great Hall with the twinkling stars on the celling and the sorting hat on the chair. They all sat down on the Gryffindor table and Harry saw Draco and his cronies sit at the Slytherin table.

As the first years lined up, with scared eyes and pale faces, the Sorting Hat began to sing.

Times darken now again,

Evils rise and spirits stir outside the great walls of stone.

Yet even inside, shadows lie,

That no fire can ever break through.

For it lives inside the whispering moans,

Of all who remember the tale,

Of the four who built your home.

Gryffindor, bravery to boast, loyalty to all.

Yet, supreme justice was his downfall.

Ravenclaw, a sharp mind to whip, resourceful and cool.

It was uncompassionate that brought her fall.

Slytherin, cunning and powerful, quicker then the rest.

Still pride and darkness weed through this gate.

And Hufflepuff, dear Hufflepuff, charming and sweet.

My dear your foolish love brought down the grave.

A story of tragedy weaves within this rock.

And it comes to knock again, but it must be stopped.

Though I must divide you know, go and beware

The shadows of your own heart,

Are no better then the rest.

So go into your separate houses and remember this,

All houses belong to one Home."

§

The song ended and no one moved for a time, and then finally; Professor McGonagall stood and called for the shaken first years to take his or her turns, and still there was silence only penetrated by the Sorting Hat's calling.

As the line went by, another name was called; which belonged to a strange person.

"Celia Magnatine."

"Hang on, isn't she to old to be a first year?" Ron asked as he noticed the next person to step under the hat.

She was a tall girl, with wavy, dark chocolate hair and pale skin. Her eyes were midnight blue and almond-shaped, set in an oval face with high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, and full, glossy lips. Her skin was flawless and her body was slim and curved.

"Haven't you heard?" Ginny asked.

Ron gave her a blank stare.

She sighed. "She was an orphan and Draco found her passed out by his door. With his father on the run with you-know-who he is in control of his riches. He paid off someone in the ministry to let her enter Hogwarts. She is a witch, so it wasn't that hard. He let her come live with her and cleaned her up. She is going to be in sixth year, and he pretty much owns her."

"So she is Malfoy's personal possession?" Hermione said with disgust.

Ginny shrugged.

"SLYTHERIN!" The Sorting Hat exclaimed.

Celia walked gracefully down and sat by a smiling Draco, with much glaring from other Slytherin girls.

The other first years where sorted and Dumbledore stood up.

"I have a few announcements before we feast." He began. "Firstly, I would like to welcome all of the new students to Hogwarts."

There was a round of applause.

"Second I would like to remind you that the Dark Forest is off bounds, along with a various selection of items that Mr. Filch has listed for you if you wish to go and check…."

He looked around with his twinkling eyes.

"There is also, of course, a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Her name is Professor Kryeen. I am afraid that she is unable to attend tonight due to a last arrival so she has to prepare for tomorrow. Now then, without further to do; let us feast." And with a snap of his fingers the tables filled with food and the relative silence broke.

"I hope Professor Kryeen is nice." Harry said.

"I hope she doesn't give us to much homework." Ron muttered between mouthfuls of food.

Hermione gave him an exasperated glance. "Well I hope she is a good teacher. We all need to learn to defend ourselves this year." She didn't need to say why.

As the feast ended Hermione gave Ron a gentle tap. "Come on, we have to go help the Head Boy and Girl."

"What- Oh, right." Ron made a face as he looked down at his prefect badge. "Sorry mate got to go."

Harry nodded gloomily and trudged up to the Fat Lady.

"Lionheart." He said before she could ask.

"Very well." She said testily as she swung open.

Harry headed up to the sixth-year room and collapsed into his bed.

"I'm back."

§

A/N-Alright, this is my longest chapter and it took me the most time to write. So, please review!


	5. Professor Blair Kryeen

ebtwisty9: Yes, I have plans for the new girl that DON'T ENVOLVE A MARY SUE! Sorry, just had to state that. Don't feel bad about correcting me; I know I'm not perfect. I even updated today just because I saw that you were going to India! I hope you have fun!

Evergreen Scepter: Well, I trust you so I think I'll go with what you said. No money out of Gringotts, but classified as an adult- thanks!

truthflame: Thank a lot! I am not sure exactly what I am going to do with dear Celia, she was kinda a last thought...

"What a day this is going to be." Ron muttered between eggs as he glared at his schedule.

"Potions with Slytherin, Double Defense Against the Dark Arts with Ravenclaw, and then to end the day we have Mr. Binns with Slytherin again." Harry read off his schedule.

"Well maybe Defense Against the Dark Arts won't be so bad." Ron said hopefully.

"What do you think Hermione?" Harry asked is friend who had been very quiet.

She blinked. "Sorry, just thinking."

"About the song again?" Ron whispered.

"Song?" Harry asked.

"The Sorting Hart song." She replied quietly.

"It was bloody creepy." Ron added.

"Yeah, but it gave one like that last year." Harry said slowly.

She shook her head. "It has never said beware before. I don't like that hat giving us warnings. It knows to much."

Harry shrugged. "Well there is no use worrying about it now."

"And what about that stranger on the train?" Ron asked.

Hermione sighed. "Harry's right. We should stop worrying about it.

§

"As you all know you-know-who has returned." Snape began his class in a chillingly cold voice.

The sixth-years were immediately tense in their seats down in the dim dungeon.

"No one can be trusted at this time. The closest of friends can be a spy for him." He hissed and strode around the room, glaring at students.

"So as I teach you the sophisticated art of potions, remember that. Anyone can slip a drop of toxin into your drink, or a truth pill into your food." He walked back up in front of the class and brought down his sheet of directions for all to see.

"We will be making a very powerful truth potion today, and if anyone makes a mistake I will be feeding them their own potion!" He snapped with a meaningful eye at Harry.

Harry knew that his potion would have a mistake in it, even if it didn't really. Much had changed since he came here last year; but Snape hadn't.

Harry stirred the potion, counting each stoke and adding each ingredient as carefully as he could.

Neville was sitting next to Hermione, quickly stirring his potion which had turned to a sickly shade of yellow, instead of the metallic black needed.

Hermione's potion, of course, was a clear black with infinite depth. She stirred hers and muttered to Neville.

Snape began to progress down to rows, starting at the back of Slytherin.

He commented on how good their potions looked until he came to Celia's.

"And you would be the new addition to Hogwarts." He said smoothly.

She looked up to him with calm, blue eyes. "Yes sir."

Snape piered down into her cauldron. "50 points to Slytherin. Miss Magnatine has an excellent truth cerium, considering that it is her first year her." He added with a slightly suspicious look.

"I am learning from an excellent teacher." Her voice was silky and proper; yet devoid of any emotion.

Snape gave a sharp nod and then continued down to the Gryffindor line.

He came to Neville's, which, thanks to Hermione, had begun to turn darker; but was still a dark golden color.

Snape gave a thin smile and looked cruelly down to a shaking boy.

He pulled out a beaker and scooped up a small glass of the liquid, holding it out to Neville.

"Drink." He commanded silkily.

Neville shook fiercely as he grabbed the beaker, tilting it up to his lips as everyone in the still room watched.

"No!" Someone suddenly shouted, making Neville drop the glass, shattering all over the floor.

Hermione was standing up in her set, a light in her eyes.

"You can't do that! You have no idea what that potion will do to him, and you can't put him in danger for your own stupid pride!"

A dark cloak fell over the dungeon.

Snape stared at Hermione, dumbfounded for a moment. Then a cruel, twisting smile formed on his lips.

"Very well then Ms. Granger. Since I do not know the full effect of the concoction Longbottom's blundering has made I will not make him drink it." He paused to give Neville a shriveling stare. "But as I know exactly the effect of your own potion." He pointed to the glassy black liquid by her. "Then I shall give you a taste of your own potion." He grabbed another beaker and filled it with the shining liquid.

"Drink."

Hermione's eyes were wide with fear, but she bravely took the beaker in her hands and took a trembling breath.

"You blood toad! Don't make her drink that you monster just so people won't see you as the sniveling…" Ron had stood up fiercely, glaring at Snape as he shouted on.

"useless, pathetic…"

Hermione held the beaker in her hand as Snape stormed over to Ron, disbelief in his eyes.

"overdressed, snot-nosed little.."

"100 points from Gryffindor." Snape hissed between the shouts.

"excuse for a human being, much less a horrible example of a…"

"Ten detentions Mr. Weasely!" Snape shouted.

"wizard! You are a filthy scumbag you deserves to be thrown with the lot of Death Eaters and rot with them in Azkaban!"

Smack!

Ron fell to the floor, his nose bleeding profusely from where Snape had hit him to the ground.

The Professor was shaking with rage as he hissed down to Ron.

"You will not talk to me like that! I am your teacher!" He grabbed him by the collar of his robe; pulling him up, inches away from his own greasy face.

"Never, never compare me to them." He hissed.

Harry had enough. He was about to stand up and knock Snape down when he felt a firm pressure on his shoulder. Hermione was standing beside him, her face pale as she shook her head.

"Don't get yourself into this too." She whispered hoarsely.

Harry opened his mouth to protest when Snape threw Ron back to the ground and turned around to face all the other students.

"Failures for all Gryffindor today; for not stopping this insolent uprising." He was livid. "Class dismissed,"

Ron, was helped out of the room by Harry and Hermione, and the Gryffindors cheered for him, not caring about the loss of points or grade.

"That was brilliant!" Seamus said,

"You were great!" Neville chimed in.

As they walked down the hall they quieted, not knowing what to expect from the new teacher.

"Ron we should really take you to the Hospital Wing." Hermione said softly.

He shook his head. "No, that bloody git is not making me go to the hospital wing!"

"You were great Ron." Harry said with a smile.

"Yeah, well he had it coming, trying to shove that potion down your throat!" He muttered.

After a pause Hermione spoke, "Thank you, Ron."

He blushed but looked away and Harry smiled at his two friends.

§

The Defense Against the Dark Arts room had gone through many changes. In Quarrel's year it was filled with books and a big black cauldron. In Lockhart's year it was pasted with smiling pictures of his head. In Lupin's time it was filled with some interesting creature. While Professor Moody's fake was teacher it had an assortment of magical objects. When the toad Umbridge inhabited the room it had silky frills and cute kittens.

Now it had gone through a new change. The walls had been painted into one giant mirage of a golden sunset with scarlet phoenixes dancing across the sky, and a fiery orange sun setting over an endless sky. Fire flitted around the air and danced onto the wings of various birds, each one a little different.

"It is gorgeous!" Parvarti said as she walked into the golden room.

Magical fire lined the ceiling, filling the room with light.

Harry looked around in amazement. The long rectangular tables had been replaced with lighter wood, circular tables that looked like dull gold in the firelight. The white marble was flecked with dark red stone. The room looked and felt like a wild magic.

"Well, now if you are all done admiring the room you would please take to your seats." A silky and smoothly bold voice reached them.

Everyone sat down, still staring around at the walls.

A woman came into view, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

"I am Professor Kryeen."

Professor Kryeen was quite young, looking to be in her mid-twenties. She was medium-height, slender and leggy, but with a fit and strong appearance. Her skin was lightly tan and smooth forming over lean muscle, and her face was gently pointed, with high cheekbones and full scarlet lips. The hair was multi-colored from a dark blood-red to a pale golden blonde, and every shade in between. It twisted and curved messily down to mid-back, so it looked like tongues of fire were reaching to the floor. Her eyes were daringly hooded, and the color was a pure, brilliant gold that shimmered with life.

She was wearing a pair of black pants with a black belt that had golden symbols engraved on it, and a white shirt with sleeved that angled at the wrists and golden carvings on the bottom that matched the belt. The familiar dark red cloak hung over her shoulder, its hood undone. A single necklace dangled from a golden chain, containing a long, red feather and two shorter chains fell from it that held three black stones and the other three white stones, leaving the feather in the middle.

No one could speak for a moment. Whatever they had prepared for, none had expected to see a young, attractive woman with fiery hair to teach them.

"Your bleeding." Professor Kryeen nodded to Ron. "Tell me is Potions always that dangerous?"

Everyone laughed, feeling the silence shatter.

"It was Snape!" Seamus shouted, and the whole story was re-accounted for the benefit of the teacher and the Ravenclaw students.

"Well we are brave aren't we." She said with a bold glance at Ron, who was basking in the glory.

Hermione's jaw fell open. She had not expected a teacher to admire this.

"Oh, now where are my manners. Tell me how old are you all?"

"Sixteen." Came voices from the class.

"Sixteen." She mused. "Well I suppose I am not much older then you am I? Then I see no reason for formality titles unless someone can object?"

No one did.

"Good, then you may call me Professor Blair. I like my first name much more then my last."

Everyone was stunned at the new teacher.

"Now, I would like to tell you how I am going to conduct my class." She began again. "Firstly, I would like you all to know that I will never condemn any opinion you voice in my class on any matter, even myself." She flashed a rash smile.

"I want to teach you to be open-minded and to question all you here. In order to do that I myself must be open-minded. So you may ask any question and say any comment, provided that it does not leave this room. Fair?"

Everyone nodded numbly.

"Now then, as you all know, Voldemort has returned."

A gasp went up in the class and a Ravenclaw student whispered, "I beg your pardon, Professor. You said we could say anything and I-.. well you said his name!"

She eyed him coolly. "Well he-who-must-not-be-named does have a name, and it is Voldemort."

Almost everyone in the room flinched.

" How many of you hate Voldemort?" She asked suddenly.

An audible cry went up.

"Then if you hate him you want to fight against him, yes." Blair asked.

They all nodded, confused.

"How can you fight against something when you cannot even say his name?" She asked, looking around for an answer.

Everyone looked down, almost.

"Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself." Hermione said suddenly, finding her voice.

Blair turned to her. "And may I ask a name?"

"Hermione, Hermione Granger." She replied cautiously

"You are very bright Hermione, or do you prefer Ms. Granger?" Blair said with a sparkle in her eyes.

Hermione blushed. "Hermione is fine."

Blair nodded appreciatively. "Hermione is quite right. Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself, and there is only one thing in the world we need to be afraid of."

"What?" Neville asked shyly.

She turned and looked him straight in the eyes. "Fear."

§

So what does everyone think of Professor Blair Kryeen? Love her, hate her? Review and tell me what you think. My only message to you is that even though she seems very bold and open, she is going to be a very complex character with a lot of secrets…


	6. Fear of Fear

§

"Look, I got wizard pictures of Professor Kryeen!" Colin Creevy announced the next day; as the hall was buzzing with talk of the new teacher.

Everyone crowded around to see a picture of a smirking Blair tilting her head back so she seemed to look the viewer directly in the eye.

"So what do you think about the new teacher?" Ginny came to sit by them, followed by Luna Lovegood.

Harry shrugged. "She seems unconventional, but still nice enough."

"I like her!" Ron exclaimed. "She didn't mind me calling Snape names!"

"Yes, she hardly seems to mind anything." Hermione said with a small hint of annoyance.

"You don't like her?" Ron asked, surprised.

She sighed. "She seems like a very nice person; but we didn't learn anything yesterday. We need a teacher who can teach; and I'm not sure Professor Blair can do that."

"Dumbledore seemed to think she was the best." Harry replied.

"Did he think Lockhart, Moody, and Umbridge were the best as well?" Luna's misty voice chimed in.

"She has a point." Harry muttered, fingering his slightly scarred hand.

"So there is a good chance that she isn't a good teacher." Hermione thought out loud.

"What do we have today?" Harry asked quickly as Ron opened his mouth to argue.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts first; then Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology and to finish the day up we have..." He groaned. "Divination."

"You could have picked something else to do." Hermione stepped in.

"Like what? Arithmacy, Ancient Runes? At least I pass Divination!" Ron snapped back.

"Do you to always fight like that?" Luna asked calmly.

"She started it!" Ron shouted first.

"Oh, please Ron!" Hermione said with exasperation. "Show some maturity!"

Harry's mind wandered as he tuned out his two friend's bickering voices. He couldn't get out of his head the strange connection between the phoenix that visited him and this new fiery Professor. He had considered that she was an animagus, but he would have to ask more about them from Hermione... later.

§

They walked into the fire-lit Defense Against the Dark Arts room and saw Professor Kryeen sitting on top of her desk. One leg crossed over each other and hands propped up, she looked much like a child impatiently waiting.

"So, did everyone think about what I said yesterday?" She asked in her audacious tone.

"I-I did Professor." Neville squeaked.

"And what did you feel?"Blair said.

"I t-think that you are right! We only need to fear, fear!" He stuttered.

Everyone in the class nodded.

"But yet you all fear other things as well, right?" She continued.

Shy nods answered her question.

"Well then let's go around and everyone has to say their fear. No lying." She warned with a rebellious smile.

So she went through the room; everyone saying a fear.

"Heights."

"Dragons."

"Spiders." Came Ron's predictable reply.

"Water."

"Mummies." Lavender Brown said.

"Snape." Neville whispered,

"Darkness."

"Failing a class." Hermione muttered under snickers.

Professor Kryeen stared at her intently with golden eyes; as if seeing through her. Finally, she moved to Harry.

There was a time when Harry would have said Dementors, but after Sirius's death he was angry with them above all. No his fear had changed. Still...

"Dementors." He lied. He found himself doing that a lot more often.

Blair stopped completely by his spot and she said, "You know Occlumency?"

Harry was taken back by the question. "A little." He admitted.

She kept surveying him. "Not nearly well enough." Came a direct answer.

"Pardon?" Harry still did not know how to deal with this new teacher.

"I am well versed in Legilimency, or mind-reading as it is more commonly called." Kryeen added, her eyes twinkling. She was not going to answer his unspoken question directly.

"You read my mind?" Harry asked, trying to go along with her guessing game. _Although Snape said that there is no such thing as mind-reading..._

She nodded encouragingly. "And what do you think I found?"

It took Harry a second before he understood. His cheeks flamed as he muttered, "I was lying."

Professor Blair nodded to him with cunning eyes. "I warned you not to lie Harry Potter, but mistakes are made and must be forgotten." Her voice lightened to a playful tone. "So, truth now.

Harry had no way out. He felt himself go red as he said, "I am afraid of Voldemort." _She shouldn't be able to see through a half-lie. It is partially taken out of context but..._

The golden eyes lingered a moment longer, but then they gradually moved away from the boy. The snickering of the class died instantly, and the Professor proceeded to question the others in silence only broken by a swift answer.

When it was done she walked up to the front of the class again, her flashing smile reflecting none of her student's moods.

"Why is it that we are afraid of these various things if you have all admitted that there is nothing to be cower from but fear itself?"

"Well, because these things are what cause us to be afraid?" Ron asked hopefully.

Professor Blair titled her head as if she was thinking and replied, "I see your point Ron, now I would like you all to hear mine."

Everyone sat up in their seats.

"These... things- water, heights, spiders... all revolve around one center fear. " She spoke without looking at anyone. "Does anyone have a guess of what that is?"

No one answered.

"Let me help. Sarah why do you fear water?" She asked a Ravenclaw girl.

"Well, you can drowned in it," The small blonde answered.

"Yes, and Seamus why do you fear heights?" Professor Kryeen continued.

"Because you can fall and die." Seamus replied.

"And Ron why do you fear spiders?" Blair asked.

"Well they are creepy and crawly, and dangerous and..."

"So they can kill you?" She asked with a taunting smile.

Harry caught on. "They all have to do with death, Professor Blair." He hastily added.

She smiled at him. "Ten points, yes Harry they all revolve around death. Specifically someone dying. So in essence what do you all fear?"

Harry felt himself liking her a lot more then he did five minutes ago; but still couldn't get the phoenix out of his head.

"Dying." Hermione answered.

"Yes, would anyone disagree?" Blair asked, searching the room.

No one disagreed, small murmuring passing through the students.

"In order to let your fear go; you must no longer fear death. Fear of death is a natural human fear, instilled deeply in your roots." Kryeen continued. "And the only way to defeat that simply fear, to break yourself free from its control..." Her golden eyes bored into everyone in the room.

"Is to find a purpose, a passion that means more to you then life itself."

♠

Care of Magical Creatures was next and Harry got to see Hagrid for the first time since last year.

"Alright, gather 'round all, gather 'round." He called to the class of sixth-years. "Today we are studying a new creature!"

Everyone huddled around the corral in the back of Hagrid's house.

"Where is it Hagrid?" Harry asked as he looked around the empty corral.

"Hmm, oh; let me go get it." He climbed into the corral and pulled out a strange silver bell with some unknown language written on it. He gave the bell a single shake and a soft, haunting note pealed out with calmness and gentility.

Then it appeared.

It was about the size of a wolf, with a faintly cat-like face and a curved horn that folded back on its head. It had four long, slender legs that ended in fin-like feet and had a long, banner twin-tail. The skin was a scaly pale blue with midnight black markings that seemed to have grown over the scales resembling rubber stripes. The cat-like eyes were slanted and ageless wise; a sharp turquoise color. A small pink dot was the only semblance to a nose. The mouth was so thin it seemed nothing more then a black line across the impassive circular face.

"What is it?" Parvarti gasped.

"This is a Chatdemer; a very rare creature. Caught it just won'ering the forest."

"It is beautiful." Lavender said aloud.

"Hush now, they are very shy creatures. Sound 'ill scare 'em away." The Professor said softly.

"But Hagrid," Hermione whispered. "Aren't Chatdemer the 'cats of the sea'? Water creatures?"

"Yes, Hermione. Don't know what this one is doing out; but we pretty much keep it in the lake." Hagrid replied.

"Then why is it here?" Ron asked.

"To study, course." The half-giant chuckled. "It won't die on land; but it doesn't like being out of the water for long p'riods of time. So when this class is over I put it back in the lake."

"This is a great chance! Not much is known about Chatdemer!" Hermione said excitedly.

So the rest of the lesson went on with each of them entering the corral one at a time with Hagrid's silver bell; calling to it and observing it. Hagrid warned that they were very ancient and wise creatures, not to be offended. They didn't like touch, but they would allow to be studied if the person showed respect.

♠

Herbology came and went quickly; they dealt with a new plant called the Sun-Dancer. It was basically a hybrid sunflower that could sense great amounts of light or heat and absorb it; growing bigger and stronger. Harry tuned most of it out; practicing spells with Ron under the table until it was time to go.

Divination was with Professor Trelawny again; she was now as haughty and cryptic as ever; telling them all that she had seen her own demise with Umbridge, but had not known the day. She spent the entire lesson predicting a horrible demise for the ex-Professor and they had to guess what she saw. Harry and Ron came the closest, coming up with the most morbid and painful deaths they could think of.

♠

The day ended as the trio ate dinner and headed up to their dormitory,where Ron worked grudgingly on Harry's Divination essay and Hermione poured over several books. He worked on a 3ft scroll for Snape on truth-ceriums; his mind wandering back to Professor Blair, her power and the phoenix. Before he knew it he had fallen asleep in the comfy chairs.

♠

♠

The rest of the week came and went for Harry; having lessons on fear with Professor Blair, who always shot him and Hermione odd looks; potions with an even more irritated Snape, Various other plants in Herbology, more studies on the Chatdemer; which proved to be a very intense time; despite the fact that you did little more then write and draw while the creature posed and acted as it liked. Vincent Crabbe once went into the corral and his stupidity aggravated the creature so much it almost took of his head with nine inch fangs that appeared when it opened its not so small mouth, under the think black lips.

After Hagrid called Dumbledore down to rescue Crabbe; since that was the only person it seemed to obey, Hagrid informed them all that it was a female. Males have long claws to shred their prey. Females have fangs. No one let their guard down after that.

Professor Binns seemed to be oblivious to the war raged outside the castle walls as he focused on how the first wizards came into being...

And so on as classes continued and everyone fell into routine; and the weekend came.

The trio all agreed to take a break, even Hermione. They decided to spend Saturday down at Hagrid's.

"Won'ering when you guys were going to visit me." Hagrid's beaming face greeted them. "Come on in; got 'ome tea boiling away!"

The trio walked in and sat down in the small, but comfy hut.

"So, how 're your classes going?" The half-giant questioned as he poured tea into foot-sized cups.

"Good, but the new teacher is different." Harry replied.

"She is great, always letting us knock Snape and all!" Ron exclaimed.

"Professor Blair hasn't taught us one spell yet!" Hermione huffed.

Ron rolled his eyes; but Hagrid seemed interested at this news.

"She hasn't?" He asked warily

"No, why?" Harry said.

Hagrid shook his head and sat down at the table. "Don' go tellin' anyone; but I don' trust the new professor. None of us do."

They all looked up surprised. Hagrid had never said a bad word about a professor. In his mind; they were chosen by Dumbledore so they were good. Well, except Lockhart and Umbridge, but Dumbledore didn't really get to choose them...

"What do you mean Hagrid?" Harry asked carefully.

His face was dark as he muttered, "Blair is strange, power is the reason Dumbledore choose her; but she is not the responsible type. Blair 'ould switch to the dark side if she thought it 'ould benefit her. Watch yourselves around her ya hear?"

"Oh, she doesn't seem that bad." Ron defended.

"Blair 's a charmer; very friendly person. Don't get me wrong. But don' think that it means she' help you. Her and Severus aren't the best of friends. She got no reason to defend him. But mark my words you three. Don't trust her. She is only concerned in her own gain, no one else's."

And with those daunting words, the three friends finished their tea and walked back to the castle.

♠

Harry was not sure what to think as he walked down the hallway; toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. The fidgeted with the slip of parchment in his hand that read,

'Harry,

Would you meet me in my room at six o'clock this evening?

-Professor Blair'

The note had been given to him by Professor McGonagall; who did not seem pleased that he was going to a private meeting with the young professor. This fact only added to his unease.

Harry was so deep in his thoughts that he almost walked past the door to the classroom. He stood in front of the plain-looking stone door; taking a deep breath before knocking.

No one answered.

He tried again and got the same result. Hesitantly, Harry pushed the door open.

"Er, Hello. Professor?" He called as he walked in the room. It was dimmer, now that the only light came from a fading sun and the flaming walls. But he did not see Blair.

Harry paused to study the mural. It was truly a piece of art, done with wispy bold stokes and bright colors that danced in the firelight. The eyes of the birds seemed wise and understanding. One creature caught his eyes. It was a smaller creature; a dark crimson color with a pale gold beak and ice blue eyes. Harry sat stunned. He was looking at an exact painting of _his_ phoenix.

"Oh, Harry there you are." Professor Kryeen suddenly appeared next to him.

Harry jumped, but did not relax when he saw his teacher. "Sorry to bust in; but no one answered and the door was unlocked."

She shrugged. "It's fine. I was busy so I didn't hear you; sorry."

Harry nodded, and then hesitated. "Professor, did you paint this?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, I used to paint a lot when I was younger; thought I'd try my hand at it again."

"Have you ever seen the actual creatures that you paint?" The words poured out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Blair surveyed him with interest. "My little secret Harry. Why such an interest?"

He shrugged. "Just wondering."

Kryeen studied him for another moment before saying, "Well, come and sit down. We have much to discuss."

Harry reluctantly sat down on a wooden chair beside his teacher.

"You are probably wondering why I called you here?"

He nodded.

"Do you remember the other day in class; when you had to say your worst fear?" She continued.

Harry nodded again. He wondered if the whole discussion was going to be like this.

"You said Voldemort." The fiery beauty commented.

He nodded... again.

"But it isn't just Voldemort you fear is it?"

Harry looked at her, confused. "I-I don't understand Professor."

"Harry do you hate Voldemort?" She tried again.

"Yes, of course." He replied.

"If Voldemort was to stand right here, suddenly appear; would you be afraid?"

Harry thought of Voldemort appearing right now, next to him. "No, not really." He admitted.

"It is not Voldemort as a being, Voldemort himself that you fear. Is it Harry?"

She was too perceptive. But _she can read minds_, Harry reminded himself.

"No." He said.

"Then what is it that you truly fear about Voldemort?" Blair asked.

Thoughts raced through Harry's mind. He did not want to tell this new professor the truth, but she would know if he lied. She had already broken through his mental walls once... And if she did it again she might discover things he did not want her to know.

Before he could change his mind; Harry spilled out the truth. "Voldemort killed my parents and Sirius. Every time I see him he gets closer to killing me, and Ron and Hermione are always right there. He could kill them; or the Weasley's, or Lupin, or someone else I like. He would kill them just to hurt me; but if I try to protect them and I die then he wins; All because of some STUPID PROPHESY!" He found himself panting when he was done. He had been screaming.

Professor Kryeen did not seem the least bit disturbed at this outburst. She just gave him an observing look that Harry was beginning to call, 'Blair's look,' do to how many times she did it and said softly.

"How interesting."

"Excuse me?" Harry asked.

"You did not fear for your own death; but for the death of others. You weigh your own life on how valuable it is to other people. How self-less." Her tone did not seem pleased or displeased; only factual.

"I am not sure I understand Professor." Harry added slowly.

"Harry, you have already found a passion greater then life and it is the life of others. Your fear is for those you care about to die. Not for yourself. That is... interesting." Blair continued to look at him for another moment; but the two were disrupted by a gentle sound.

"Professor Blair." The voice was misty and gentle. Almost unnoticeable had it not been for the silence of the room.

"Ah, Celia." Professor Kryeen stood to greet the new arrival; which Harry was quite happy about. He hated that look.

Harry had yet to see the new Slytherin close up; and now that he did he could understand why Malfoy wanted her.

She looked stunning in the firelight, it reflected off her dark blue eyes and porcelain skin. She held herself with grace and calmness; and her dark brown hair shone in contrast with her face.

"I assume that you are here to pick up the charm." Blair walked behind her desk, sliding it open to pull out a necklace.

"Yes Professor." She replied, glancing over at Harry.

Harry felt himself blush and quickly turned away to look at the necklace.

It had a silver chain, with a flat, smooth white stone that had a black slash of color going through it.

The woman walked over and handed it to the teen.

"Thank you Professor." Celia said right before she nodded in Harry's direction and left.

"Well, I think that can conclude our meeting today, unless you have anything else to say Harry." She questioned.

The boy shook his head quickly. "No, thank you Professor."

§

Re-edited: Chapters 6 & 7 condensed.


	7. Questioning Presents After Sunlight

§

"You have a what?" Ron screamed despite the warning Harry had given him

"Harry that was really, really dangerous!" Hermione lectured.

"Keep your voices down!" Harry hissed.

Then he sighed and said, "I know that it was dangerous, but you don't understand. The phoenix.. there is just something about it. I know I can trust it."

"So wait.. you have a real, live phoenix that comes to you randomly?" Ron said with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Yes." Harry said for the umpteenth time.

"No, Harry you can't trust it! It could be a trick!" Hermione nagged.

"That is why I wanted to talk to you." Harry said, his voice even lower.

"You think it is a fake?" Ron said with slight disappointment.

"I think... I think that Professor Blair is an animagus... I think the phoenix is her." Harry admitted.

"It is impossible Harry." Hermione replied. "Firstly she isn't on the list..."

"She could be an illegal one." Ron interjected.

She shot him a withering look and continued, "And even if she was an unregistered animagus, she couldn't be phoenix. Phoenix are magical creatures; and an animagus, registered or no, cannot become a magical being. It is impossible."

Harry looked down. "There is still something about her... something.."

"Inhuman." Hermione finished for him.

"Yeah, I have noticed it to. She seems to have this... feeling." Ron added uncomfortably.

"I know what we should do." She said suddenly.

Both boys turned to her.

"Professor Blair said that we can ask any question in class right?"

"Right," They both replied in confused unison.

"And she seems to have an affinity for fear." Hermione continued.

"So we are going to ask her what her fear is!" Harry suddenly caught on.

"Precisely."

§

Hermione wasted no time when they walked into the fiery room.

"Professor Blair." She raised her hand.

"Yes Hermione," Blair answered.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" The bookworm continued.

"You have just done so; I see no harm in another." Her eyes glittered playfully.

"You are always talking about fear, how we need to only be afraid of fear itself and how all fears are connected... But what is your fear?"

The class' eyes fell upon the young teacher.

Professor Kryeen only cocked her head and replied with her own question. "Do you want what you can understand or do you want what is unaltered?"

The brunette was startled by this reply; but her quick wit soon recovered. "Both."

"But each contradicts the other, so to have both is to have none." Blair was playing a cryptic mind game with her; and the clever witch was determined to win.

"I want only the pure truth."

The fiery woman eyed her for a moment and then replied, "Sometimes the truth is not so pure."

"But there is always a truth." The teen argued.

Blair looked her over for another moment before saying, "The truth is that I do not fear."

No one understood.

"So you are frightened of fear?" Harry asked.

She smiled at them and replied, "I do not expect you to understand. Your world has built you so that having someone that cannot fear is impossible to you."

"Oh, come on Professor, we told you our fears, be honest." Dean Thomas shouted.

"I am being honest," She replied with a laugh. "But I didn't expect you to understand. You have been taught that everyone fears, and I cannot explain to you the reason and understanding of not fearing. I have given you the truth, whether you choose to except it is your choice."

No one answered.

§

Who does she think she is, 'I don't expect you to understand?' She is a big, fat lier!" Hermione ranted as they crossed the grounds to Care of Magical Creatures.

"Somehow I don't think she was lying." Harry muttered.

"Oh, and Harry I know another reason she can't be your phoenix." Hermione said swiftly.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Her eyes are gold, not blue."

§

The rest of the day went by with Hermione in an ill mood and Harry wondering about his phoenix. He didn't have to wait long, however, because he had a late night guest...

§

Harry muttered in his sleep, tossing and turning until he felt someone shaking his shoulder.

"Ron..." He murmured groggily. "Ron why are you waking me up it is four in the..." He stopped as he slipped on his glasses. Ron was at his bed, mouth agape, pointing wordlessly at the window.

"It's here!" Harry whispered.

Sure enough, the eagle-sized scarlet bird was sitting on the window-sill gazing at the two people awake in the room.

"Bloody hell, it is real!" Ron gasped finally.

"Yeah, what do you think, I was hallucinating?" Harry asked tartly.

Ron didn't reply; he just watched as it glided gracefully to the bed and landed between them.

"Have you named it?" Ron asked.

"No, I tried; but I found out that I wasn't too good at naming." Harry whispered ruefully.

"Wait till Hermione finds our that I saw it!" Ron said gleefully.

The phoenix didn't seem bothered by Ron's presence, but it kept nudging Harry to get out of his bed.

"Okay, okay," Harry slipped as quietly as he could out of his bed and followed it.

The phoenix flew out the window for a second, and then returned with a black shape nearly three times its size.

"What is that?" Ron asked in hushed tones.

"I don't know." He replied as he scooped of the large bundle. "It is furry."

"Give it back we don't know what that is!" Ron raised his voice a little.

"Shut it!" Harry warned. "I'll give it back to..."

But the phoenix had already departed, finishing its purpose this night.

"I guess I will have to keep it till morning, it isn't moving," Harry said reluctantly as he slipped the large dark mass into Ron's over-sized suitcase.

"Leave some room for it to breath!" Ron hissed as he zippered up the suitcase.

"Right." Harry replied uncertainly as he left a small hold unzipped.

"That thing better be friendly." Ron muttered darkly as he climbed back into bed.

§

Ron's scream awoke Harry. He sat bolt upright in his bed.

"What?" He murmured groggily.

"Harry, the suitcase... it's moving!"

Sure enough, Ron's over-large suitcase was rolling around the floor, seems busting.

Suddenly, the suitcase flew open and a large, furry black dog appeared; quickly changing into a familiar man with a handsome tan face and clean black hair.

"S-sirius?" Harry choked.

"In the flesh." Sirius said with a smile.

"But...how..."

"I was rescued from death." He said happily.

All his curiosity seemed to fall away as he ran up and embraced his godfather, tears stinging his irises. "It was my fault you died if I hadn't... I am so sorry!"

"It isn't your fault Harry." Sirius soothed. "Besides I am back now. _He_ saved me."

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Lord Voldemort." His godfather said in awe.

Harry was to stunned to move. "No... Voldemort kills people. It wasn't him... It couldn't have been him."

"No Harry, you have been lied to. We have all been lied to! Voldemort saves people. Dumbledore kills people." Sirius replied.

"No... your wrong." Harry took a step back.

_What is happening? My godfather hated Voldemort._

Suddenly his crimson bird came into view, and a voice erupted from its golden beak.

"_Wake up, Harry!" _It cried.

"Harry, she is trying to take you away. Stay with me; we can be happy together; get into lots of trouble!" Sirius exclaimed with a wolfish smile.

Harry turned away from the phoenix. Of course he would choose Sirius over it.

"_You cannot lie to yourself Harry. You know this isn't real. You must wake up!" _The voice called again in a disembodied sense from the silent bird.

"Harry!" Sirius screamed his name as he fell under the veal.

"No!" Harry roared, running towards it.

"_He is dead, now WAKE UP!"_ The voice screamed, and Harry saw something pull him hard away from Sirius and the phoenix. In a blur, he saw Voldemort's hand reaching out to him, and Bellatrix laughing cruelly.

§

"WAKE UP HARRY POTTER!" A familiar voice roared in his ear.

"Sirius!" The dreamer bellowed as he opened his eyes. His breathing was shallow, and he was drenched in sweat... sitting in his bed.

It took a moment for everything to register. It had been a dream. Voldemort had tricked him into a dream, and he had used Sirius.

Then he looked around. To his surprise, he saw Blair standing near him, removing her wand from his forehead. She obviously liked muggle clothing because she was wearing a tank-top and short shorts. Her dark scarlet cloak had been hastily thrown on top.

Harry was thankful that it was dark because he felt a blush creeping up his cheeks from being so close to his rather attractive professor while she was in her night-clothes.

"What happened?" Harry croaked.

Ron was standing by his side, his eyes wide as he whispered; "We went up to the dormitories and then I heard something pecking on the window. It was the phoenix, just like you said. It seemed really agitated and it kept tapping the window so I opened it. Then it soared over to you and I realized you were asleep... I figured that you had just been really tired, but the thing kept tapping you. Then you started murmuring and it flew out of the room. Next thing I know, Professor McGonogall, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Kryeen were hear." Ron nodded to the three adults in the room. Blair looked curios, Dumbledore worried; and McGonogall absolutely disgusted at the clothing Kryeen had on.

"Daemon alerted me to go to your room and on my way I met Minerva." Blair filled in for him after his questioning glance. "I told her what had happened and she went to get Albus. I entered your thoughts and told you to wake up."

The boy-who-lived slowed his breathing feeling embarrassed, angry, and sorrowful at the same time.

"Harry." Professor Dumbledore spoke gently to him. His face was lined with concern as he stood in midnight blue wizard robes. "If you have no more questions for either Professor Kryeen or Ron, would you mind coming with me?"

The green-eyed youth nodded and got out of bed, but hesitated and asked. "Professor who is..."

"Daemon is my phoenix." Professor Blair answered quickly.

Black hair shook as he nodded, to exhausted to question further.

§

The last Potter followed Dumbledore up to his office, not really paying attention. The dream kept replaying in his mind, followed my thoughts of Sirius.

He walked in, and only when he heard someone yell, "Harry!" did he snap back to the present.

Lupin shot out of his seat and ran over to them both. Before he could open his mouth Dumbledore waved his hand.

"Harry has had a dream that he will inform us of in a moment. He is fine. No one was hurt."

The boy sat down wearily and Remus gave him a worried look.

"Now Harry, would you politely tell us of your dream?" Dumbledore asked as he settled down.

Scar-face nodded and began. He told them of Sirius and Voldemort and Blair's voice; but not the phoenix. Blair's phoenix.

"Voldemort used Sirius?" Lupin looked very pale.

Dumbledore looked deep into his favored pupil and replied, "It seems so. Now then, are you alright?"

The seeker tried to nod and say he was fine, but the words wouldn't form. Instead he cried out,

"I wanted to stay. It is my fault Sirius died and I want him back!"After the words bubbled out, a lump filled his throat.

Silence prevailed and the orphan looked at the floor, embarrassed at his outburst.

Lupin hesitantly placed his arm on his shoulder and Dumbledore spoke softly.

"It is natural to miss departed loved ones, but remember Harry; as long as you hold those you love in your heart, no one can ever take them from you."

After a pause Dumbledore continued. "Remus I called you here tonight because I have a job for you. Harry is in need of an Occlumency teacher, and his lessons with Severus were less the pleasurable. I feel that I cannot give him as much attention as I wish, and I would like you to do it."

Lupin gave a small smile. "Albus you are very kind, but I cannot allow you to let me in the castle with Voldemort on the loose. The people need to trust you, not worry about a werewolf mauling their children."

"You could have Professor Blair do it." Harry muttered.

A sudden tenseness entered the air.

"Harry," Dumbledore said slowly, "I do not want you spending any time more then necessary with Professor Kryeen. Do you understand?"

He nodded quickly.

"Remus, please?"

Lupin looked like he would argue until Harry added, "I learned twice as much with you in one month then all year with Snape. People have enough to worry about than about who is teaching me."

Remus sighed and relented. "When will I move in?"

Dumbledore beamed. "I can organize it for you in two day's time. Can you be ready by then?"

He nodded and squeezed his friend's son's shoulder. "See you in two days."

As he left Harry felt the scar on his arm subconsciously. He still had to find a way to help Lupin, and he **would** do it.

§

redone: chapters 7 and 8


	8. Shadow of the Flame

ebtwisty9: This has a lot on Blair.. and her faults. I couldn't leave poor Lupin out.. I like him too much- lol!

truthflame: Thanks for the complements. my school is coming up soon...

Evergreem Scepter: Yes, Dumbledore is famous for trust ...that is an important fact for this story.

PsychicLunar: It was pretty easy to tell it was a dream, I tried to make it that way so no one got confused... well Blair isn't the nicest person as you will see here...

§

The morning of the next day came, and with it came Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Today we will be working with a minor healing potion. I trust you all can still read." Professor Snape began his class. "Then follow the instructions on the board. You have the entire lesson."

Harry's mind was no where near the potion as he chopped roots. He kept thinking of his dream, Lupin, and the phoenix he know knew to be Daemon; Professor Blair's phoenix. Why would her phoenix come to him? How did it come to him? He wasn't surprised that the strange teacher had a phoenix in truth, but he still had no idea why her phoenix would come to him. Did she know about it?

"Potter!" Snape's hissing voice drew him out of his thoughts. "Are you still capable of reading?"

Harry was in no mood to be lectured. "Yes,"

"Then please read to me how many stirs are supposed to go clockwise." He replied coldly.

Harry glared back at him and replied stonily. "Seven"

"And how many times have you stirred your potion?"

He had no idea how many times he had stirred his potion, but he would not let Severus know that. "Six," He lied.

"Really, because if in truth you have stirred it six times then this potion would be a pale blue, but if you stirred it more then seven it would be dark brown. Potter, tell me the color of your potion." Snape ranted as the whole dungeon listened.

Harry felt his cheeks redden a bit as he replied bitterly, "Brown."

"So that makes you a lier and a pathetic student. What great traits you inherited from your father." Snape spat.

"My father was twice the person you are!" Harry shouted before he could contain himself.

The greasy-haired Professor rounded on him. "I am well aware that you have no rules while under the influence of _Professor_ Kryeen," He emphasized professor. "But while you are in my classroom you will follow the rules and _hold your tongue_."

Harry glared daggers back and then someone else whispered, "Well at least Professor Blair can look into a mirror without it shattering!"

Snape snapped up and looked wildly around the class. "Who said that?"

No one answered.

"Detentions for everyone in that side of the room," He pointed madly to the back. "And If I here another comment then I shall feed each of you your own truth potion to find the culprit!" He breathed slowly. "Besides, I can at least do more then _look at a mirror_."

No one spoke the rest of class.

§

"Well, how are we today?" Blair greeted them.

Roars and groans greeted her.

"Great," She said with a playful smile.

"Professor, Snape made fun of you!" A student said.

"Did he now?" Professor Kryeen asked smoothly.

"Yes, well... he told us that he was a better teacher... and then someone said that at least you could look in a mirror without shattering it... and then he said that at least he could do more then just look at a mirror." He replied.

A very different kind of fire seemed to burn in her golden eyes as she listened, making her look almost crazy.

"Well then I suppose I shall just go to have a chat with Severus about how he is talking to me around the students," Blair walked to the door. "You are free to come."

Everyone exchanged glances and quietly filed out of the classroom.

§

"Severus," Professor Kryeen flowed into the dim dungeon carrying a light of her own. "What an odd place to teach in," She seemed to comment to herself.

The entire class turned to you. They seemed like first or second years, a mixture of Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"Blair," Snape hissed between his teeth. "And what do I owe the pleasure of your _lovely_ company?"

For the first time since entering, they locked eyes. Snape gave her a look of disgust and loathing. She glared back at him with contempt and annoyance. Tension seemed to ooze from the room as the short silence was disrupted.

"I was just talking to a student and they said that you told them some horrible lies about me. Is that right, _Severus_?" She seemed to spit the word out like it was contagious.

"Oh, no Blair. I didn't _lie_ about you." He replied silkily.

A small gasp went up from the smaller students.

Kryeen didn't yell at him, she didn't stomp off, she didn't curse him to oblivion. Instead, she gave a small, dangerous smile and the mad fire danced lightly in her eyes as she strode slowly around the edge of the room.

"Why would you spend time talking about _me_, Severus when the students have yet to hear about _you_." Blair began smoothly. "I mean, there is much to say." She seemed to be talking half to herself. " Like how you use fear to manipulate the weak-minded students... and how you try to intimidate everyone around you so you can control them..."

Snape's body was tense, his eyes blazing furiously as they followed her along the walls. No one dared to disrupt her.

"You find a need to have power of people so they don't realize your obvious faults... You are so wrapped up in protecting yourself from other people that you forget to live. You would rather have everyone hate you then to let someone in..." Blair ranted on, seemingly oblivious to the rest of them. "Tell me Severus, what do you hide? Are you jealous because Dumbledore likes others... or are you jealous at the people able to _live_?"

Snape cracked, with a roar he raised his wand to her. Kryeen moved back a step with incredible reflex just before the spell hit. The stone was charred and blackened where it had hit.

"What's wrong?" She whispered, "Angry?"

Snape shot another spell at her. "You know nothing of me you, ignorant, filthy worm!"

This time, he had to dodge a spell Blair sent flying at him. "Did I hit a tender spot?" Kryeen screeched.

"You are nothing! You are a pretty doll that the Headmaster took in to save other people from being sickened by you!"

She just laughed madly and threw her head up, throwing a spell that made a large gash form around the Professor's cheek and having one skim by to graze her head, sending a thin trickle of vivid red liquid down her hair. She sent another spell and just managed to duck behind a table before Snape's next one hit.

Unfortunately, the mis-placed spell hit Neville instead. With a scream he fell off his chair, squirming in agony.

"Were we playing with that Severus? Crucio?" Blair asked as the fire returned to its home, and she gave him a tauntingly daring smile. She was pushing him to break again.

Instead, Snape took breaths like a mad bull and threw Neville onto Hermione. "Take him up to the Hospital Wing!" He snarled before striding out of the room.

The spell stopped and Neville fell against her, crying and moaning.

No one spoke for a time, until Professor Kryeen said, "Well that was amusing," and walked back to her room.

§

The rest of the Gryffindor followed Hermione to the Hospital Wing, where the entire story was overheard by Madam Pomphrey.

"Hm, disgraceful... two professor's fighting... what was she doing, waltzing in on him like that?"

It seemed like the old nurse took the side of Snape, unlike most of the Gryffindor students. Harry wondered if any teacher liked her. But after what he saw today he couldn't blame her. Hermione and Ron were arguing. Hermione accused Blair of being immature and trying to cause trouble. Ron thought she was great to stand up to that 'greasy-haired git'. Harry had to agree with Hermione. As good as it felt for Snape to get hit and humiliated, Professor Kryeen had come to cause trouble... and Neville had gotten hurt in the middle of it. He was disrupted from his thoughts by a gentle tap on his shoulder.

Albus Dumbledore stood behind him, his face grim and worried. "Harry, will you and Ms. Granger... and Mr. Weasely follow me?"

He nodded, wondering why Dumbledore wanted him as he signaled for Ron and Hermione to follow him.

As they walked out he saw a very angry and concerned Professor McGonogall walk by muttering under her breath.

§

The trio sat down in the round office, and saw a very disgruntled and fuming Professor Snape sitting on a chair.

A few minutes later the door slid open and Professor Kryeen slid in, the smile of victory and taunting still on her crimson lips as she looked up almost bored at the Headmaster sitting silently behind his desk.

"You called me, I assume you have a good reason." She said as she walked easily over to them.

Dumbledore looked at her with a mixture of mistrust and wariness, but it was gone quickly.

"Yes, why don't you take a seat?"

"I prefer to stand," She replied with a faint hint of annoyance.

Harry had never heard anyone talk to Dumbledore like that. He felt a small amount of anger bubbling up in him.

"Well then I am sure you both know why I called you to my office." Albus peered at her and Severus.

"I will not even try to fathom your reasoning Albus." Blair commented.

"Do not talk to the Headmaster like that you insolent brat!" Snape rounded on her.

"Severus, enough." Dumbledore waved his hand, but Kryeen was wearing that devilish smile.

"I have called you here because Pompey had informed me that a student is in the Hospital Wing due to to a curse cast upon him; and it had something to do with both of you. Now, Harry, Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasely; please tell me exactly what happened."

Hermione gave her tale with obvious disgust at both of her Professor's; which warranted an amused look from Blair and a glare of loathing from Snape. Ron told a very biased account of Snape being a wretch. Harry told his story, with hate toward Severus, but no kindness to Professor Kryeen. After the way she had addressed Dumbledore he had begun to dislike her.

After all three tales were told there was a pause in which the Headmaster eyed both Professor's.

"Severus, I am afraid that you must explain this to Mr. Longbottom's grandmother. You must also refrain from every drawing your wand in the potion's room." He looked down with disappointment, and Severus seemed to stiffen under it as he nodded slowly.

"Blair, I must ask you to never go near the dungeon's again. I cannot have you bickering with Severus." He spoke with authority that hushed the students, but seemed to have no affect of the fiery woman other then to light the crazed fire into her eyes again.

Blair leaned forward to the Headmaster, her poise taut and challenging.

For the first time, Harry felt a small pang of fear enter his heart as he looked at her. Her gold-to-red hair was flecked with blood, and the deadly fire danced in her eyes, giving her an inhuman appearance. The hard muscles of her exposed arms seemed to stiffen under the smooth skin and raw power seeped from her.

"No one, **no one**," She gave a deadly whisper. " Commands me, _Headmaster_." Blair spat the word in mockery. "I do as I please, do not forget that. You may go tell the pathetic little cronies what you want; but you have no power over me." The golden orbs searched his face for a sign of resistance. "Never forget that."

Harry was tense, ready to jump at her back if Kryeen showed signs of hurting Dumbledore.

The intensity of the room slacked as she twirled around and strode out the door, slamming it shut like a child.

Dumbledore gave a small sigh and sat wearily back in his chair.

"Headmaster if you only were to dismiss her.. I am sure you could find a substitute..." Severus spoke calmly again.

"I have already given you my opinion on this matter, Severus." Dumbledore replied softly. "You are dismissed.

Severus nodded and glided out of the room. None of the teenagers moved.

"Professor Kryeen is a very complex character." Albus said finally. "I do not understand all of her motives, but I do know that she is a poor judge in character. Do not take to heart anything you have heard her say." His blue eyes flickered to each of them. "And I must ask you not to give her your full trust... ever."

They nodded and at a wave from Dumbledore, began to exist through the door. Harry lingered for a moment.

"Professor- has she ever..." He wasn't sure how to ask this.

Albus gave him a small smile and his blue eyes twinkles for a moment. "Professor Kryeen has never layed a hand on me, despite all of her threats Harry; although I do appreciate the concern. That is one of the reasons she is still here... now, go on to your class Harry. Have a good day."

With his confusing word's ringing in his head; Harry walked to the Greenhouse.

§

A/N-Sorry for the delay, I have been really busy. I couldn't figure out how to spell Pompey's last name. If I spelled it wrong please tell me. Thanks everyone and... please review.


	9. Before the Ashes: Of my Own

Harry never again learned to like Professor Blair in the days following. If anything, his opinion of her worsened. Not only, did she not seem to care the Neville had gotten hurt; she seemed to have _enjoyed_ the fight with Snape. He was however, curious about her. So; during free-time he would linger in the hall around her room, sometimes with Ron; but Hermione made her opinion very clear on this matter.

"I am not going to go spy on a teacher! Besides, what if she gets angry or does something crazy to you? I have more valuable things to do with my time then waste it stalking some easily irritated woman."

They never asked her again.

§

"Who gave you the note again?" Ron asked over breakfast.

"A first year, but she didn't say who it was from." Harry replied, looking over the loopy-writing.

_Harry,_

_Come to my new office after classes today. It is the empty classroom by the Room of Requirements. Hope to see you soon!_

"Well we can all go; I don't think it is a trap; but it is better safe then sorry." Hermione said firmly.

So, they went through their classes. Professor Trelawny ranted on about how the stars foretold of a great chaos, and then Ron blew something up in Potions, loosing ten points from Gryffindor. Defense Against the Dark Arts was spent by students questioning Professor Blair on how she fought Snape, and Charms was was cut short by Neville turning his partner into a dark shade of blue instead of making them feel sad.

All in all, Harry was more then willing to go to the strange classroom by the end of the day.

§

"Wonder who it is," Ron yawned.

Hermione knocked politely on the shut door and a muffled voice replied, "Come in."

The trio entered, and Ron gasped in surprise.

"Professor!" Hermione said with a smile.

Lupin smiled back at her. "I guess you forgot I was coming then?"

Harry turned pink and gave a rueful smile. "Sorry"

"Nothing to worry about. I only finished unpacking today. I must say, I didn't expect so many guests. Tea?" Remus asked as he waved three chairs into existence for the trio to sit on.

"No thanks," Harry said quickly.

"Well, I assume you still remember why I am at Hogwarts don't you Harry?"

"You mean, your not going to take the place of that dreadful woman?" Hermione asked, disappointed.

Lupin looked surprised. "It was my understanding that all the students liked Blair."

"She got into a fight with Professor Snape; honestly she has the maturity of a three-year old!" She continued to rant.

Remus gave a small smile and spoke softly. "Well then I am glad that there is one student at Hogwarts that can see through her."

Hermione blushed, and Harry added; "I don't like her. I did before but... she threatened Professor-"

"Albus knew what she was like before hiring her." Lupin cut him off. "Blair does not bother him."

"Why did he hire her?" Ron asked.

The ex-professor gave them a searching look and then waved his wand at the door. They heard it clink shut.

"Professor Kryeen came to Dumbledore with a proposition. She said that he could either give her a spot in the school, as a teacher; or she would join... you-know-who."

They all skipped a beat in surprise.

"She is... a very powerful witch." He went on. "Her fight with Snape did not show it; that was only a game to her." His face darkened.

"So we have heard." Hermione muttered icily.

"Albus can tell that her power is very ancient, not even he can fully understand it; but he knows that is it better to have her play her games at the castle instead of doing any real harm with the enemy." He finished.

"I knew she wasn't exactly perfect, but..." Ron struggled to say the name.

"Not even Dumbledore can understand her power?" Hermione questioned, a small glint in her eye.

"Do not go meddling around with her; any of you." Remus warned when he saw Harry and Ron exchange glances. "I do not understand her, but I do know that Professor Blair is dangerous. She is not a witch to be crossed. Promise me that you will never give her a reason to harm you."

"We promise," They said in unison.

He looked relieved, but still wary. "Alright, well the hour is late now. You had best be off, or else Filch will catch you."

The trio slowly made their way to the door.

"Oh, and Harry;" Moony added. "Your next lesson is tomorrow, during Divination."

Harry gave him a smile and whispered, "Thanks professor."

§

"Tomorrow, we are going to the library." Hermione announced as they stepped into the empty common room.

Ron groaned. "Why?"

"Since, we can't bother Professor Blair; we will just have to find other ways of learning about her."

"What are you going to do? Look for her name in a book?" Ron demanded.

"Yes, but if that doesn't work then I am checking out everything to do with phoenix." Hermione replied tartly.

§

Days of searching brought up nothing on the name Blair Kryeen, not even in the student files. After much work on phoenix mythology and facts the trio found an article that seemed to match their fiery teacher.

_A local fable from the small town called Rilke, says that a strange woman appeared sometime in the past month. The townsfolk said that her head was on fire, and her eyes were the very gates of hell. With a single touch, she could turn you to ashes by boiling your own blood. They said that 'it' was called Lady Phoenix, for she had wings of fire on her back, and sharp silver talons. The Lady Phoenix came one night and bought a room in an inn, ending up killing half the village for 'fun.'_

_-Excerpt from the Quibbler, October Edition of 2001_

§

"Harry, Harry wake up."

The boy-who-lived gave a moan and rolled away.

"Up!" Ron hissed, tugging the blanket from under him.

"Aw!" Harry exclaimed as he his the hard wooden floor. The clock by his bed read 3:26.

"Ron why are you waking me up at three in the morning?" He asked angrily.

"You have an owl." The freckled red-head replied.

"What?" Harry murmured wearily as he put his glasses on. He saw that Ron was right. He did have an owl, a large barn owl that was hooting and flying around annoyingly.

When it saw Harry get up, the bird flew over to him and dropped a letter with a sharp peck to his wrist before flying off.

"Gee, thanks." Harry called out the window sarcastically.

"Well, open it." Ron added eagerly.

With a small sigh, the last Potters slid the letter open.

_Harry,_

_We really have to think of a better name for you. This letter could be intercepted. Never mind, we have more important things to discuss. Blair was spotted at a Death Eater meeting. Our source says that she is re-entering the school. We fear that she may try to do something to you. Please take some people and go up to Fawkes's lair, but make sure you like rainbow nougat. _

_-OotP_

§

"And why are we going out in the middle of the night to see Dumbledore again?" Ron asked.

"Fawkes's lair, that is his office." Harry replied as they strode up the stairs.

"But we don't know the password." Ron groaned as they reached the gargoyles.

"Yes we do, rainbow nougat." Harry said quickly.

The gargoyles hastily jumped out of the way as the two teens climbed.

Harry panted as he knocked on the door.

"Come in." A calm voice called from inside the office.

§

A window creaked open softly, and in the gentle moonlight a crimson cloak passed through. Standing to her full height, Blair Kryeen surveyed the empty corridor with all-seeing golden eyes. Then, she took long strides across, a playful smile on her features.

_What a fun night this was._

§

"Severus, please calm down." Albus Dumbledore instructed firmly.

The Potion's teacher took three deep breaths, his black eyes smoldering.

Harry and Ron watched in silence as Snape began his tale.

"I was called to another meeting. I gave the Dark Lord some false information, and was learning of some of the reports just as usual." He spotted the two silent teens glaring daggers at him.

"Headmaster I really do not think that they..."

Dumbledore waved him down. "I trust them. Please continue."

With a look of pure loathing at the two; he continued.

"Then _she_ came; strutting in as if _she ruled_ the place of course." He added hotly.

"Blair?" Albus clarified.

He nodded. "One of the Death Eaters tried to kill her on the spot, but she avoided the attack and snapped the man's neck."

"Do you know who it was?" The wizened wizard asked.

"I am afraid not Headmaster." Snape said silkily. "The Dark Lord was impressed and _interested_ by her talent. He asked Blair her name, and she _laughed_; telling him that he could call her whatever he wanted. At first, I thought she had come to betray you and join the Dark Lord, but when he asked why she was here the whore replied, 'To have some fun."

"Severus, your language please." Dumbledore said forcefully.

Snape bowed and muttered, "I apologize. I forgot we were in the presence of... children." He gave Ron and Harry a withering glance.

"Severus, continue please." Dumbledore cut through a possible fight with a sharp voice.

With another nod; the teacher continued. "She proceeded to flick her wand at Peter Pettigrew and lift him into the air. The Dark Lord was not angry, but wanted to ensure she knew who was in charge. He released Wormtail and apparently that angered Miss Kryeen. She told him that no one controlled her and proved her point by lifting Wormtail back into the air. The Dark Lord became furious and nearly crushed Peter in an attempt to get him back to the ground. Blair, however managed to hold him inches in the air. Everyone was startled, naturally that anyone could best the Dark Lord. He commanded all the Death Eaters to leave so he could have a private chat with her. I came straight back here after contacting you Headmaster."

No one spoke for a time and then Dumbledore murmured, "She has even more power then I first assumed. Let us just hope that Voldemort does not convince her to join with him."

Suddenly, Fawkes gave a single musical note.

"She has returned."

§

A few minutes later Blair Kryeen stepped up into the office. She had a smug look on her wild features, and her hair was matted with dirt and blood. Still, the inner fire seemed to radiate from her every pore. It added intensity, power, and an electric beauty.

"Filthy wretch!" Severus hissed at her.

She gave him an amused glance and replied, "Good night to you as well, over-sized bat."

"Where you at the Death Eater meeting?" Harry had jumped up before reason stopped him. He felt a strange fury build up at the sight of her, so obviously playing with everyone.

Blair seemed surprised at his sudden boldness, and smiled wider. "Yes"

"HOW COULD YOU! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE A PROFESSOR! YOU BLACKMAILED DUMBLEDORE INTO GIVING YOU THIS JOB THEN YOU GO AND HELP VOLDEMORT! YOU ARE A DIRTY LIER!"

She laughed, but she fixed him with a deadly stare and stepped toward him with the poise of a predator who has found prey.

"I do not care what you or any of the other students think Harry." She whispered.

Dumbledore was out of his seat, wand drawn.

She was mere inches from his face, and Harry could feel her spicy hot breath. Then she backed away and roared with laughter.

"I have no honor Harry Potter. Honor is to restricting. I am above all of your pathetic morals."

Ron pulled him down before he could yell back. His freckled face was ghastly pale.

Albus raised his voice to boom over the circular office. "ENOUGH!"

Silence fell, but Blair was giving Harry an amused look still.

"Miss Kryeen, did you join with Voldemort?" He suddenly sounded very old and tired.

She gave a shrug and replied, " Don't feel like telling you tonight." Then she walked out the door.

§

§

News of Professor Kryeen's late night excavations spread through the school like wildfire. By Monday morning the rumors were more imagination then truth.

"I heard that Professor Kryeen killed he-who-must-not-be-named!"

"I heard that she slept with him!"

"Your both crazy, she only went because her finance is a Death Eater!"

Hermione, of course, knew the truth. She grumbled that they didn't wake her up when Ron pointed out that the stairs were enchanted.

§

"We have Divination today." Ron groaned as he walked with Harry to the Great Hall.

"Great, I wonder what horrific death will befall me today." He replied dully.

" I don't know how you put up with that old bat." Hermione muttered.

"Well she gives Ron a passing grade, which is new." A familiar voice came up to them.

Ron muttered under his breath as Ginny came to sit by him with Luna.

"Did you here about Professor Kryeen?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, we talked with her. All she said was she went to 'have fun.'" Harry replied.

"How much fun can you have at a Death Eater meeting?" She asked, outraged.

"Her fun is not our fun." Luna spoke in her misty voice.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Her fun is messing with people; either that or she was bit by a Snorkeling Gobblegit."

"A what?" Harry said.

"They are tiny bugs that are really hard to see, but if they bite you they can control your mind." Lovegood explained.

Hermione covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

Harry highly doubted that Blair was bitten by a magical bug, but the way Luna described her idea of fun seemed right.

§

Entering the dim Astronomy Tower, Harry and Ron immediately knew something was wrong. The smell of incense was twice as powerful and the soft cushions were toppled and disarray. Among all the chaos Professor Trelawny was running about frantic.

"No, no I cannot see... It is hidden... Who dares to hide it from me... An entire month... fog, splatters, no stars.. blind..." She yelled, peering into a crystal ball, then looking into several cups of tea.

"Er... Professor Trelawny is everything... alright?" Harry asked.

"NOTHING!" She screamed, looking mad.

"Pardon?" Harry blinked.

She ran over to him, pointing dramatically at the table behind her filled with various fortune-telling instruments.

"All month, I have seen nothing! There are times when my inner eyes is clouded, but never this long. The crystal balls are fogged, the stars are covered by clouds, the tea leaves reveal nothing but blobs! Not one of my students can see anything! Blind, blind! This is dark magic I tell you! Someone is interfering with the cosmic forces! Beware all!"

"She's finally lost it." Ron whispered to Harry.

He nodded, but somehow it seemed deeper then that.

"Go away! Go all of you, and beware! I will stay in my tower and battle these forces alone!" She waved dramatically.

"Professor isn't there anything we could do?" Lavender asked shyly.

"No, no children. You must only watch yourselves, dark times ahead when the seers see nothing." She slammed the door on them.

Ron shook his head. "What was that all about?"

"I- I don't know." Harry admitted, but brightened a bit. "But we have a free class, lets go down to the Quidditch pitch and practice."

§

"I am going to give her a piece of my mind today!" She grumbled as they walked to the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom.

"She might take of piece of your body as payment." Harry muttered darkly.

"Hm, I just think she is a stuck-up two year old who likes to scare people." She insisted.

"You were the one who didn't want to bother her before!" Ron pointed out.

Hermione shut up, but glared at him the rest of the way down the hall.

§

She walked in, normal as usual... well as normal as Blair Kryeen could be. She still had her preferred muggle attire peering from under a pale golden robe. Today it was lose black pants with gold embroidery and a dark satin green shirt. Her classic smile still hung, and the aura of confidence and power washed from her. The necklace peeked over, an article she wore everyday and it was even rumored she slept in it. The black stones contrasted the white as the long phoenix feather dangled down.

"How are we today?" She asked smoothly.

A burst of answers came to her.

"Did you go to the Death Eater meeting?"

"Did you join... _him_?"

"Are you the new spy?"

"You didn't sleep with him, did you?"

"You killed Voldemort didn't you?"

She laughed and relative quiet fell. "So many questions, it seems my late-night visits go unnoticed by no one. I am touched." Her voice dripped sarcasm.

"Then you did go to..." A Ravenclaw began.

"I went to the Death Eater meeting, yes."

Total silence fell.

"What happened professor?" Neville asked shyly.

"I had some fun." Something about the smile and the glare in her golden orbs made her look sadistic as the words rolled out.

"Is it true that you were able to overpower Voldemort?" Hermione suddenly asked.

Blair shrugged. "Yes,"

An audible gasp went up, but Hermione's eyes glinted steely.

"Prove it."

Kryeen gave her a measuring look. "Is that a challenge?"

The young witch held her chin high to gaze straight into the fiery depth of her professor's eyes.

"It is."

In an instant, Blair's entire person changed. Her relaxed and casually powerful poise became tense and ready to pounce. The inner fire surfaced, and the care-free daring smile became one of cunning amusement.

"Prove to me that you have enough power to best Voldemort." Hermione swallowed hard as Professor Kryeen advanced slowly.

"And if I do? What then?" She breathed down her neck.

Harry and Ron had their wands raised under their desks.

"I will walk into Potions tomorrow and tell Professor Snape that he is a greasy-git and you are twice as better as he is."

Her eyes lit up, vengeance and a haunting fire filled flickered in them. "And if you win I will walk in to Severus and tell him I submit to his superiority. Ready?"

Hermione's palm sweat a bit, but her face was a firm composure as she nodded.

Blair stood tall, her tall frame rigid as she began chanting in some language Hermione didn't know. Yet, it was familiar. The tone was hauntingly beautiful and ringing with power. The melody was smooth and high, like a pure crystal bell chiming out... or a phoenix song.

Suddenly, the fire that lit the room around the ceiling began to dance, trickling toward her open palms. Flames licked her skin without leaving a mark, flowing to her slender hands.

With a fluid movement her palms shifted downward, and the shifting flames pelted at the stone ground with such force that the ceramic stone shattered apart as the stream of heat, ancient magic, and flames cut through dry ground like butter. Then, slowly and certainly she began to play her hands up like a puppeteer, embellishing and chanting with slow movement.

The fiery serpent began to rise again, and in its deadly clutches a large wooden box carried up, tittering in a bed of orange liquid.

Gently, the box lifted higher and higher from the torn gash in the earth. It was engulfed in flames, yet not a single burn mark showed. The flames were _obeying_ her. Following their mistress's whim the deadly fire carried the precious burden into the light of day, and on the unbroken tiles.

With a single slashing movement and an end to the chanting Blair ended it. The flames vanished as if they had been cut with a knife, vanishing into the air. The only traces were a deep wound in the ground, the dark, ebony box; and the stinging heat with pale wisps of smoke.

Walking over in silent boldness the young professor crossed over to the dark black box. She traced the words with her fingers, running the other hand down to check the box for any marks. Perfect. Then she stood up and the victorious look had painted on her face.

"Hermione, please come over here.

Miss Granger, still shocked from the fiery ceremony walked numbly over to the large box. She inspected it.

The box was made of a heavy wood and varnished with black lacker. Intricately painted figures adorned it, jade green snakes curled around the edges and silver lettering written in long, loopy writing engraved on the top. The box itself was rectangular with an oddity at the beginning. It took Hermione only a minute to whiten in shock. It was a coffin.

Harry and Ron walked over to Hermione, and Harry saw the coffin with the snakes. With sudden horror he looked at the silver lettering.

"Ron can you read that?" His voice was hoarse.

"N-no," Ron was shaking as he held Hermione up.

"It is s... some other language." She squeaked.

"It is Parselmouth." Harry's mouth was dry.

"_Here lies the Salizar Slytherin, the greatest of the four. On this tomb is inscribed the tale of his demise, the secret of his lair, and the power that was hidden with him. Turn back mortals, some is better left buried. Dare not unleash what lies inside, for the chamber was not his greatest weapon. No, something far darker was already being born as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was being brought to life. Turn back mortals, for some fates are worse then death. Turn back mortals, for the king of snakes will reek destruction upon all. Turn back mortals, for she will come and bring an end to all. Turn back mortals, for hate does not die. Turn back mortals..._

§

Redone: 9,10 & 11


	10. Guardian of Slytherin

Kat Linyo: lol... well I'm glad you like it that much!

Elle's Bells: Yeah, Blair is a creeper character, all these werid things will start to happen to her...

ebtwisty9: Hermione thinks of Blair as her lesser, nothing more then a spoiled child. I put the background into this so it is natrual for her to challenge Blair when she sees her not as a Professor.

Evergreen Scepter: No, it was Salazar's coffin. He is the King of Snakes. You learn about the powers of the coffin in this chapter. As for Blair being related to Voldemort... they may have some history behind them...

Psychic Lunar: Thanks for the correction. Yes, Daemon did get Harry into a bit of trouble as you will discover later on...

Psychic Lunar: Blair loves secrets, whatever do you mean... lol! Yes, the coffin does has something to do with her. But don't judge Blair so quickly, she is an incredibly complex character who is going to create an interesting little web for this story...

§

"Salazar Slytherin's tomb has been found!" The words echoed around Hogwarts thanks to Professor Kryeen's fondness of secrets... She had brought the coffin out to the Great Hall and left it there.

"I am not keeping a box in my room." She defiantly told Dumbledore when he asked for it to be kept safely back in its place.

An hour later, Harry was jogging to keep up with Lupin as he walked quickly through the school.

"Slytherin's coffin... How did she know where it was? The burial places of the four creators was lost long ago... And, how was she able to break through the wards? I am sure there must be protections on each grave..."

Harry listened in silence, thinking about his own questions as they walked up the narrow staircase to Professor Dumbledore's office; he seemed to be spending a lot of time in that place this year...

"Remus, Harry; please take a seat." Dumbledore's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Headmaster what are we to do with her?" Lupin asked wearily.

"I do not know... but Professor Kryeen has proved her power over now. We cannot allow her to join the other side." He replied.

"How did she know where it was?" Moony said.

"It is strange... Ms. Blair specifically asked for that room and the bedroom above it." Dumbledore commented.

"But that is where all the other Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers have been." Harry interjected.

" True, however I doubt that she knew that. There are no records of Professor Kryeen ever attending Hogwarts." The headmaster added.

"Then how could Blair possibly know where Salazar's coffin was buried?" Professor Lupin questioned.

"Another part of the mystery that surrounds our strange professor." Dumbledore said simply. Then turning to Harry he continued. "Now, what was it that you saw exactly?"

Harry went through a quick account of Hermione's challenge, Kryeen's reaction, the fire obeying her, the coffin; even when he read the words on the tomb.

Remus rested his head in his hands. "She got past the enchantments to get to the tomb, but didn't destroy the curse?"

"Curse?" Harry asked, confused.

"When a very powerful wizard dies, it is customary to place two kinds of spells on their tomb. The first are magics of protection and secrecy. The second is a safe-guard of sorts. It is a curse. If the coffin is found and taken from its resting place the curse is triggered, and a guardian of some form is released. The protector will continue to plague the people who have unleashed the curse until the coffin is re-sealed and buried again." The headmaster seemed anxious as he spoke, and Harry began to see the huge weight of what Professor Blair had done.

"What kinds of things are the guardians?" Harry wasn't sure he actually wanted to know.

"The more powerful the witch of wizard, the stronger the curse. One time a group of muggle archaeologists disturbed the tomb of a wizard they called King Tut. They all got boils and a cat died. Still, with their superstitions the tomb was replaced..." Remus told him.

"And with a wizard of Slytherin's power?" Harry's stomach was in knots.

"I do not dare to imagine what horror Professor Kryeen awoke. Much less, the tomb has been moved into the Great Hall, and all who walk through are subject to a victim of its wrath... While Professor Kryeen is not being cooperative at this moment, we cannot return the coffin to its resting place. We must however, move it into a less populated room..." Dumbledore sighed.

"The Room of Requirements!" He said a loud suddenly.

For the first time tonight, Lupin gave a half-smile. "Well done Harry. The Room of Requirements is the best place to put it for now."

Albus nodded and beamed at Harry. "Tonight then, we shall move it. I will instruct all the prefects to lead their houses in the Common Room tonight. All the teachers will report to the Great Hall. Oh, and Harry... I would advise you not to tell anyone of what you have heard here, except for... perhaps Miss Granger and Mr and _Miss Weasley_."

Harry nodded and then left, walking down to the Fat Lady.

§

The boy-who-lived caught them them walking into the portrait hole.

"Ron, Hermione, Ginny." He called quickly.

"Harry, we just got called inside the tomb is..." Hermione was interrupted by him."I know, but listen we have to go talk to Professor Blair. I'll explain on the way." Harry panted.

"Then why are we standing here?" Ginny demanded.

"Not you." Ron exclaimed.

"Yes, her too." Harry had caught the tone Dumbledore used when he mentioned Ginny. He needed her to stop this.

"But Harry-" Ron stuttered.

"I'll explain on the way. Let's go!" He didn't wait for their reply.

§

"So wait- say this all again." Hermione whispered in disbelief.

"The tomb was cursed and now Blair has unleashed some kind of guardian on Hogwarts. Anyone who went into the Great Hall in considered a victim. The only way to make the guardian leave is to return it to Professor Blair's room; and she is refusing to let us do that." Harry breathed.

"Then what are we doing here if there is some angry, powerful being hunting in the school?" Ron muttered.

"We are going to convince Kryeen to let us return Salizar to his resting place." He said shortly.

"And Gin had to come because..." Ron berated.

"Because Professor Dumbledore said so, now shut it!" Harry snapped.

The foursome crawled out from the column they were hiding behind; creeping across the dark corridor with all senses alert.

"Someone is coming!" Hermione squealed. They all ducked into the door beside them.

Breathing heavily in the dark gloom, Ginny peaked out the crack in the door.

A dark swish of a cloak passed through, followed by a distinctive voice.

"Honestly, what is she thinking? Is she trying to kill us all?"

Professor McGonogall

The rap of shoes and dark cloak soon vanished behind the turn.

She gave a shuddering sigh of relief.

"That was close." Ron's voice was high.

"We have to do this." Harry gritted his teeth.

"How are we even going to get Professor Kryeen to take the coffin back in?" Hermione questioned.

"I don't know." Harry admitted.

"We'll think of something!" Ginny protested. "Harry's right. We have to do this. I-I think Dumbledore wanted me to do this because of what happened in the Chamber. I helped bring that.. thing to life, and I can stop this one! Don't worry," She layed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "We can do this."

"Gin-" Ron began weakly, halting with a sigh.

"She's right. Come on then, lets go." Hermione forced bravo into her voice.

One by one, they crept out of room, sneaking back onto the corridor.

"Right, lets go on." Ron swallowed.

They continued walking along the dim corridor, listening for any sound. A day passed, or perhaps only a second. Time faded into the startling charged air.

"Sh- do you here something?" Ginny asked suddenly.

They all froze, listening intently.

"What are you taking about there is nothing-" Ron stopped short.

There it was, the faint sound of something moving along. Almost like a carpet flowing by...

"What is it?" Hermione asked softly.

"I don't-" Harry cut off as it came into view.

The torch-lit gloom contrasted off its form eerily. It had the head, and torso of a young woman. Her face was alabaster and oval. Two wide, silver eyes glowed, along with straight black hair that hung to the floor. Her lips were thin, cheekbones high, and eyebrows arching. The deathly white torso was naked, and fading into the scaly body of a snake; emerald green scales scattered with silver. Silently, she opened her mouth to reveal inch long fangs, green venom glittering on the tips. The horror cast a spell over them.

Someone screamed, and the enchantment fell.

The foursome fled, flying down the halls as the ancient guardian of Slytherin followed swiftly and screaming in parselmouth.

_"Mortals dare defy my father's rest! Die all, die and let me feed. I am so hungry, come little children... pay the blood to awaken the King of Snakes!"_

"It's coming closer!" Hermione shrieked

"Keep running!" Harry's lungs burned angrily.

They took a sharp left, running blindly down the next corridor.

"Try the door!" Ginny shouted.

Ron rammed against the door near him. It was locked.

"Open!" Harry beat at it angrily.

Hermione lifted her wand to it and muttered a spell. "I can't open it!" She turned around fearfully.

The creature turned and came, scant feet from its prey. Slowly, and deliberately it slithered over to the four teens.

_"Now you DIE!"_ She hissed, with a flickering forked tounge.

Desperately, Harry raised his wand. With the speed of a striking snake, it disarmed him, turning sharply to knock out Ron's wand as well.

Hermione held her wand close and began to whisper a spell. A jet of red light flew out of her wand, but didn't effect the creature.

The snake-woman crouched upon Hermione, fangs inches away from her flesh.

A mad energy seized Ron and he jumped up, hitting the guardian over the head with his fist.

She roared with fury, turning around to throw Ron into a wall.

A bone-shattering crack hit the room.

"Ron!" Harry screamed, crawling over to his friend.

Now the guardian turned to face Ginny. Time seemed to freeze.

_"You escaped once, but not again..."_ Harry heard it hiss as it reared back to strike.

A swish of black, and then light exploded in the dank corridor.

A loud hiss followed.

_"Back to the gloom in which you came!"_

The half-woman cried in agony and the stench of burning flesh filled the air.

Suddenly, there was someone shouting.

"Get up! It won't hold her long! Grab hands!"

The light faded and left them in impenetrable darkness.

Still, Harry felt a hand grab his as he was pulled to his feet. Then, the sound of feet running quickly reached through. Turning blindly, they ran on past doorways and turns.

"Daemon!" The voice cried as the swift curses of the guardian got closer.

The phoenix soared down, a beacon of crimson light in the darkness.

They followed the phoenix for a long stretch, Harry praying that everyone had made it as the scar on his arm poked him annoyingly.

_If one of them is hurt it is my fault..._

Suddenly, they halted abruptly.

He heard Ron groan as he ran into who could only be Hermione.

_Ginny..._

Whoever was leading them was pounding upon a wall... or was it a door. The blinding light and dizzying pain were dulling Harry's senses.

"Daemon!" It cried again. The phoenix flew through the wall... Harry wondered if he had gone insane...

Suddenly, the door clicked open and they all tumbled in.

There was a moment of coughing blackness, then someone's wand lit up.

It was the face of a teenage girl, with fair skin and chestnut hair.

"Celia?" Harry wasn't sure if he had the name right.

"Hush, you'll need your strength." She panted.

"Ginny..." He breathed.

Celia nodded to her right, where a pale and sweaty Ginny sat by breathing heavily.

"Is Ron alright?" She asked tightly.

Celia looked over to the end of the chain. "A few broken bones, but if he ran with us it can't be serious." Her voice was overly-optimistic.

The scarlet form of Daemon flooded over to them.

"Welcome." A voice rang out from the gloom.

§

A/N- Sorry about the wait. Anyways I tried to make this chapter intense. How did I do? Who guessed Celia was the one who saved them?


	11. Bonds Beginning, Masks Shed

ebtwisty9: Thanks a lot. I did try to update this one sooner so you wouldn't have to be kept in suspense too long...

Tmctflyboy: Yay! New reviewer! Sorry that it is confusing- hopefully this chapter will clear some things up... and some more more questions...

Evegreen Scepter: He does in this chapter. But in the first one, he had just met the creature. It is human nature to fight or flee. I was just using some basic psychiatry. Yes, Daemon is the phoenix.

PsychicLunar: Not really. It is just a safe-guard on the tomb reacting, nothing to do with Salazar being evil. Oh, and Celia was the one talking the whole time, just thought I would clear that up...

A/N- If you have already read this chapter, don't worry. I did update my story, however I added a prolouge instead of a new chapter. Hope you all enjoy!

§

Celia spun around wildly, turning to face the dark gloom. The sizzling sound of fire was followed a moment later by a golden glow walking toward them. With a sigh, Celia sat down. The torch hit the familiar face of Professor Blair Kryeen.

"Miss Blair, you frightened me." Her voice was the one echoing in the halls, soft, melodious like a whispering wind, with a vague accent.

"Strong words Celia, considering you just wandered into my room in the middle of the night." Blair replied, snapping her fingers as the flames sprung from walls, lighting the entire classroom.

"It is the guardian Miss Blair, it tried to attack them." Celia gestured to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny behind her.

"Really? What happened?" Her tone was mildly curious.

"We came to find you." Harry stepped in, catching his breath and slowing his pounding heart. "And then that... guardian attacked us. It might have killed Ginny if Celia hadn't helped us with some spell." He wanted to make her feel guilty.

However, Kryeen only questioned him further. "What did the guardian look like? Did it say anything?"

"It was half-snake and... half woman. All it did was hiss at us a lot and then try to bite a few people." Ron muttered hoarsely.

"Parselmouth?" Blair turned to direct the question to Celia, whose pale cheeks blushed slightly in the light.

"I came too late to hear anything." She replied.

"You speak Parselmouth too?" Harry asked suddenly, surprised.

She gave a shy nod, amber eyes focused on the ground.

"Two snake-charmers?" The professor noted. "What did the guardian say Harry?"

_Kill Professor Kryeen._ He thought bitterly. "She said 'Mortals dare defy my father's rest! Die all, die and let me feed. I am so hungry, come little children... pay the blood to awaken the King of Snakes!' and then another bit about death, and finally she said that 'You escaped once but not again.'"

"Who defied Salazar?" Blair continued.

"I did," Ginny said, forcing herself to stand.

"Gin..." Ron's moan was lost upon his sister.

"I... helped to awaken the Chamber of Secrets; but Harry rescued me and destroyed it." The red-haired girl tilted her chin up to look Professor Kryeen straight in the eye.

Now Harry flushed and Celia gave him an encouraging, if weary, smile.

"I shall have to hear how that tale goes," Blair started, but was interrupted by a single rhythmic note from the phoenix Daemon.

"Later however, right now you don't seem to be in the mood to talk." A flickering smile passed over her lips.

"We came to ask you to take the coffin back." Harry said, his voice gaining strength.

"I believe I have already informed Albus about my opinion on that matter." She replied curtly.

"It is dangerous! That thing is out there killing people!" Harry lost his temper, standing up seething.

"Well then you go out there and be the hero little Harry, I do not play such naïve games." The fiery woman's voice was laced with power.

"And unlocking an ancient tomb is not naïve?" Harry felt the fury pounding through his head, obstructing reason.

"I do not fear the guardian, besides it may prove some fun in this dim old castle." She replied, daring him to yell at her again.

Attacking Hogwarts tore the boy-who-lived's last strand of patience.

"YOU INSANE WRETCH! PEOPLE ARE GOING TO DIE AND ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS HAVING FUN? YOU ARE WORSE THEN VOLDEMORT, AT LEAST HE DOESN'T KILL FOR FUN YOU NUEROTIC WHORE!" The words poured out of Potter's mouth.

A blade was against his throat before Harry took another breath, breaking into a thin trickle of blood across his throat.

"HARRY!" Hermione screamed, jumping to her feet as Ron tried to stand miserably.

"Do not insult me Harry Potter. I am not like the rest of the magical world. I do not believe in any prophesy or see you as some saint... I will kill you." Her eyes burned into his skull. Harry did not dare reply as the blade's hot touch pressed against his skin.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flurry of crimson and felt the reassuring weight as Daemon perched on Harry's shoulder, solemn blue eyes looking up at the young professor with reprimand and warning. With obvious hesitation, Blair drew back the long knife and re-sheathed it; slipping it back into the high black boots she wore under her robes.

§

"Stay still please," Celia chided Ron gently as she turned her charm over, muttering a spell and pressing it against his bruised back.

"Ow, that hurts." Ron said between gritted teeth.

Still, the magic worked as it flowed from the white stone to the skin, repairing bruises and a snapping bones together. She pulled away after nearly a minute.

"You'll be fine now." She smiled.

"Thanks," Ron murmured, rubbing his back.

Professor Kryeen sat at her desk, a bottle of amber-colored liquid in front of her. Daemon flew over her head, staring incriminating.

"I am being civil." Blair snapped to the scarlet bird. " I swear you are going to make me kill you someday."

Daemon flew over near Celia, and Harry glared at Blair furiously.

Suddenly, a great boom sounded at the door, followed by muffled voices.

" That man has a death wish." Kryeen hissed, drawing her wand and the knife in one swift movement as she strode over to the double bronze doors.

Harry recognized the voice and felt as though he had been punched hard in the gut. It was Lupin ... and Dumbledore.

With a roar, he jumped on the woman as she unlocked the door. Immediately, he felt a crushing hand grip his arm, disarming him Harry of his wand and pinning him against the stone wall.

Potter's arms were held fast behind his own weight, legs dangling inches from the ground as Blair held him with one hand on by his neck. In the other hand, she held the knife he had seen less then an hour ago. Free fire danced in the golden orbs, as light contrasted her tan skin and crimson hair with crossing shadow.

"Professor Kryeen!" Dumbledore's voice rang with power that shook the walls of the room and hurt Harry's ears; but Blair didn't move away from her position.

"Expelliarmus!" A jet of red light shot out of Remus's wand.

Without a breath's time, Harry found himself in front of Blair, both hand held by her as he was pushed forward as the disarming spell. It hit him, the trained instincts of the female Defense teacher dropping him and ducking just as Harry flew back a few feet to ram into the wall.

"Peterificus Totalus!" Hermione screeched, forcing Kryeen to roll out of the way,

"ENOUGH!" Dumbledore roared, fury etched in his usually calm features. Even Blair payed attention this time...partly.

"Or what? Your savior jumped me!" She spat, poise stiff and senses alert.

"You were going to hurt the Headmaster!" Ron yelled to defend his mate.

"I was going to do more then hurt." Her voice was deadly silk.

"Bitch!" Ginny swore angrily.

"Miss Weasely, let it be." Albus commanded sternly. Then turning to Professor Kryeen he spoke clearly. "We are taking the students out of the room. They will be nothing to bother you."

"Step foot in this chamber again and I will kill you!" Blair threatened.

" Do not touch them again!" Lupin snapped, truly angry for the first time Harry had ever seen.

"Or else what? Will you bite me?" An irritating flicker ran across her features.

"Let's go." Celia stopped all argument with those two words. Her voice carried a soothing note, enough to make Hermione, Ron, and Ginny walk out; as Celia helped Harry up despite the silent protests of his friends. She was the only one who had not raised against the dangerous professor. Still, her face was troubled as she led Harry carefully out the door.

A streak of crimson flew past them. Daemon scouted ahead down the hall.

Without a word, Celia allowed Lupin to take Harry from her. Harry leaned on his arm, angry at his own weakness. But his legs were being difficult...

The large doors slammed shut with an audible click.

"Inside we will be killed, and outside we are being hunted." Ron stated grimly. "We can't win."

§

They walked down the dark halls, illuminated only by Dumbledore's wand as he led them through the castle. Ages seemed to pass, as they tramped on. At one point, Harry's leg began to feel better and he managed to stumble painfully along on his own until Celia pressed the necklace against his back, magic dripping to his leg.

"Thanks," Harry whispered. The oppressive silence seemed to swallow his words.

"It is fine." She replied in a hushed tone, her eyes darting around warily.

"What did you do last time, to get away from the guardian?" He asked.

"It was just a little trick," she shrugged modestly. "I used a light-spell to burn and blind it. Nothing permanent."

"It still saved us." Harry muttered.

"For now," She admitted.

Suddenly, the slow-moving group halted. The air was strangely still, like the calm before the storm and charged with deep magic. Then, the pale light in front of them lifted to reveal her.

Pale face contorted in fury, flickering tounge working between the fangs. For a moment, she didn't move; silver eyes locked onto the Headmaster, straying finally to Lupin. Then with a single movement, she seemed to decide.

"_No mortals stand against me... I am the bloodline of my father, no others deserve my birthright..."_

A jet of green light shot out of Dumbledore's wand; but the snake-woman simply recoiled for a second, then continued on hissing angrily.

"Remus, take the students and run." Albus commanded firmly.

"Headmaster I--" Lupin's argument was lost in the cry of a musical voice.

Daemon flew out at the creature, striking it with golden beak and talons.

The guardian shrieked in fury, trying to bite at the large red bird. Finally, a pale arm managed to reach out and roughly pin it to the ground.

"_Die..."_ It hissed.

"_Stop!"_ Harry tried desperately to talk to the creature.

It paused for a moment, and then glared with raw hatred at him.

"_Bastard mud-blood carries my father's gift! I am his child, I am the last bloodline!"_

But Daemon was still struggling, blood-red feathers fighting with determined icy eyes. Choosing to finish the smaller threat first, she leaned down to bite the slender neck cleanly in half...

A loud voice echoed across the halls, filling the stone of the walls and the bone of the people. Harry couldn't tell what the words meant, but he felt their ancient power coursing through his veins like a fever.

The guardian hissed angrily, blinking twice to look up at her new challenger.

Flames danced down the dark hall, illuminating it in a ghastly red glow as waves of heat crashed down. The heavy clod of boots rammed against the stone floor as she approached, cloaked with flame that tickled her skin; golden eyes alight with power.

She spoke the words again, and in a refracting echo, Harry understood them.

"**Leave this place, go back to your father's home..."** There was force in the words.

"_The mortals... the bloodline must be purged. I must be the last, the most faithful..." _The humanoid hissed, recoiling from the vivid form before her.

With a wave of her hand, Blair Kryeen pointed to the still phoenix.

"**You have touched what is mine; and I shall drink to vengeance less you leave now!"** Her strange language seemed to pound through Harry's body with exulting force.

For a fraction of a minute, the guardian and professor stood facing each other. The snake-woman shrouded in shadow, as Blair stood with fire dancing on her skin. Finally, the guardian backed down, releasing the phoenix hissing back.

"_Another time, I will have the blood price..."_

There was a time of silence as the fire died out, leaving thick darkness until their eyes adjusted.

"Did you want me to do that? Was that your plan, to get me to protect them?" Blair was speaking, seemingly to Daemon, who was ruffling his smooth feathers.

The knife was thrown next to him, burying itself deep into stone with force.

"Answer me now."

The bird stared up at her with blue eyes, cocking its head as if reading something. Then, it began to change. The body became translucent, the red giving way to pale peach. Feathers sunk in to smooth skin as the form became taller...

A boy of 15, transparent almost stood in front of them. The only hint of his former form was the startling red hair composed of a feather-like texture that fell down to mid-back, a long, straight nose; and piercing ice blue eyes.

"I was trying to prevent you from having to explain why your pet bird is really the shadow of a teenage boy." His voice was light, musical, and tainted with power.

When Kryeen didn't reply he continued.

"You didn't have to come save me."

She leaned down, nearly touching his nose.

"I will not betray him." Her voice was a fiery whisper.

"I released you from that bond a while ago." The boy once called Daemon replied.

"And I of yours, but you are still here." With that, the young professor strode off; her red cloak billowing.

§

A/N- Twisted it up even more... Daemon looks a bit more like a ghost just for anyone confused. His origins will be explained next chapter. How do I do? Blair have a few secrets that are coming into light...


	12. Through Eagle's Eye, Death Doth Tread

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the creator of the Harry Potter world, and all said characters included. Underworld holds the term death-dealer, though it has a different use in this story. All original points (plot, characters, pasts, ect) belong to me, and cannot be used without permission.

Tmctflyboy: I have a hundred different reasons for updating late. Half of them are reasonable, a handful of them are true, and none of them would interest you. So I had best stick with a simple apology... as for your clear comment on Blair Kryeen, that is the first time I have heard of someone not liking her. I am glad that I have some variety in the opinion of my reviwers, diversity spawns interest.

ebtwisty9: Last chapter was more fast-paced, but this one should be easier to understand.

PsychicLunar: Lol, I think so too. I am flattered that you like my writing style (my old work is shit) And that you have a very keen concept of the characters. I am afraid poor Harry will be put through a bit more before this is over...

Evergreen Sceptre: Daemon's secret will stay hidden for just a little while longer... Along with the necklace (although it is not Slytherin's but Celia does have something to do with him)

§

A being walked through the decrepit field; his hunger peaking a the smell of bodies and blood, but his master was not one to be kept waiting. His soft black moccasins left no trail nor gave a sound to tell of its owners approach to the rearing building ahead. The cardinal eyes burnt through the hostile environment, warning all nature to keep away. Even the sun was reluctant to peek away from its could to shine a path on the battlefield littered with bodies. The figure's pace began to speed, the air carried a heavy stench of rotting flesh; yet his sharp nose caught the scent of life, human life. He had no time to deal with the flickering world of mortals. Stealing through the dim light, he came to the shadow of a mighty temple.

Its tall columns were of black obsidian, arching up to support the high gray ceiling, enchanted to not allow even the faintest trace of sunlight enterance. The walker came to a pair of double-doors three times the size of a man, and wrought with iron. Inlaid, were carvings made of garnet and written in a dead tongue.

The traveler pulled a necklace from his neck, hiding beneath the high-collar black shirt. It was a long, pale silver chain that had not rusted in its extended years. Clinging onto it, was a sickle-moon shaped onyx stone. The sheen was a bottomless black, contrasted by the fair silver around it.

This stranger knew his way into the temple. He found the small niche in the door, an enchanted lock that fit with a few selected keys. The black moon was one of them. As the pendant swung into the niche with a soft click he spoke, rolling his tongue and moving his jaws to form words no human, magic or not, could do. The beauty of the words stilled the air, and removed the stench from the air, took the soft bite of chill from the air, and made the cracked ground give a small shudder of delight. Though it is nearly impossible to translate the words, at best they would say,

"_The nightwalker greets his lord and master. May the black moon shine high in his kingdom beyond the gray sea and dead gates."_

With a relieving creak, the double doors slid open on magical hinges, metal screeching to protest its long life. The creature pulled the key from its niche before entering, doors closing with a daunting thud.

Inside the cathedral, the roof was deceptively low and the obsidian stone path cutting through the charred debris, was surrealistically narrow. They symbol of the unlit hall meant one thing. The path is one, the path is straight, the path must be traveled. The trespasser had already walked his path, and he had been rewarded with another life. Winding and long, he passed silently in the dark, his crimson eyes glowing with blood-light. Finally, a single fading torch sparked at the end of the stone path through the burnt temple. It ended in an alter, the single torch glistening eerily next to its wooden surface.

The immortal stooped to a bow before the black-varnished ash wood. The single light was small and pale yellow, serving to lengthen the shadows around the alter from its bronze bracket. Yet it never sputtered or went out, and it never would.

This was the one place where living servants could call their master without crossing the dangerous path to his domain. This was the Templum de Mortis. The Temple of Death.

The servant began to reverently mutter words in the ancient language, beads of sweat breaking upon his pale brow as his immortal energy raveled its deep magic into the gray waters of death. He was calling for his master. His impassive tone, cool and merciless, hinted with with Italian heat, grew in volume as the spell wove stronger. The shadows in the darkness crawled along, waiting to see if they had claimed another life. But then, the onyx crescent began to glow without light, a powerful magic awakening within it.

An ethereal voice echoed in his mind, scratching along the stone walls of the cathedral. It spoke in the dead tongue, the tone of moaning souls bound by endless power, the voice of eternity and end. Shaking pitch and toneless, it existed with control. Again, the translation is a fraction of powerful words.

"_Ah... my nightwalker returns to his lord's call. You have served me well, Draeg Darkling."_

_"I await my master's call." The immortal replied without changing a note._

_"And it is as it should be, night beckoning to the call of death... It is the way of eternity, of all things." Death replied, neither male or female, one or many. _

_"Are there those that still rebuttal the power of my lord?" The speaker's tongue slid easily between his sharp teeth._

_"Water is sleeping under gray waves, day is stealing upon battle grounds, earth is gathering souls, wind whispers in dreams yet, my fire... the Aduru Epopis has fallen to the sway of her own blood." The ageless voice whispered with deceitful promises and fathomless power._

_"The youngling is far to headstrong... mortal blood taints the immortal spirit. I will quench the fire into the depth of the colorless sea..." Venom seared through the servant's eyes._

_"No, the mortal heart is fading with each breath, only shadows and ghosts remain of mortality. She has only to kill them, and her power will be unbroken. But the fire in her soul burns through reason. My Aduru Epopis must be taught to value her immortal power, must taste the stint of pain and the flow of blood again...Then she shall return and serve me." Death replied with knowledge of all times passed._

_"No, I call you here to ensure my claim does not forget who her owner is. There is a war brewing between the mortals, the ones with magic dust in their blood. It will be the most centered claim of mortal enchantment in all time. She feels the draw, of power and pain, death and life. While, the one whose name they fear to call sets upon the dawn of bloodshed, Aduru will watch. I want you to go... no immortal belongs in any mortal war, it is not wise to sway with the tide of time. Ensure that my Epopsis does not bind herself into it... kill all, but leave her alive. This is your task."_

Draeg Darkling gave a cruel grin, long canines exposed for a moment as he felt his connection drift away back into the living world. Scarlet eyes fell on the cool chill of the air, alight with a need to feed. The hunger was strong from the power he had used to call upon Death. Darkling felt no worry. There was a field littered with bodies for the taking just outside, and if the humans tried to stop him... well a fresh kill was always better. His feet silently brought his tall form back into the pale twilight, bright compared to the darkness of Templum de Mortis. Draeg blinked once, his cunning mind ticking.

Food, he had no need to think over. No, it was the Aduru Epopis that held his higher thought conscience. He had met the immortal once, and it had arisen into a bloody fight. Immortals rarely battle, a few brawls are common, but hardly an all-out match. Mostly it is because they all payed a weighty price for their life, and were reluctant to endanger it. Draeg was well-known as one of the most powerful immortal, one of the Death-Dealers. For he had immortal blood before being chosen. But then she came... the memory still rose blood-lust in his ancient veins. Her arrogant voice, poisoned blade, skill far to great for one so young... he thought of the scar along his muscled abdomen, and the flawless flesh Aduru Epopis had left with that day. His lord had spared him, but the bitterness still lingered. Now, now he had a time for what all Death-Dealers live for, the thrill of the hunt, the adrenaline of power... vengeance was the sweetest cup of wine to ever grace his lips.

§

Miles away, and across a deep sapphire ocean, an eagle flew easily along the warm drafts. These were getting rarer to find, and the creature's instincts drove it south. He had traveled this path many a time, but something new was happening below. On the sparse ground far below, was a wave of flickering lanterns and camouflaged tents that no human eye could see. Magic sweetened the beauty of night sky, as the amber colored bird sensed the power far below. Curious, yet wary, it swooped a little lower, yellow eye observant.

There were people scurrying around the campsite, people who smelt of magic and dressed in long black robes. Enchanted sticks waved at their side, and the creature knew to stay away from them from experience. The wizards were running about the wide valley, calling to each other in words the eagle could not understand and flashing colors of red and white, power scorching the air as the raucous sounds grew louder.

The keen eyes of the predator saw a thin line splitting the multitiude of black canvas. On one side, huge creatures of primitive form and strong muscle thumped angrily, kept in check by the wand-bearing wizards and their almighty leader, easily found because he stood a head taller then any of the other creatures. Fire crackled and sweat mixed the air with a hot odor.

_Giants._ The bird instinctively knew.

On the other half a trill of freezing cold, a patch of sky where the stars could not reach, and darkness spawned fear. The eagle soared high overhead, wheeling away from this part of camp. The long flight-feathers shimmered high under the moon, visions of rattlesnakes and guns peeking through his sight. _Dementors,_ Magicfolk called them. They were a danger to a flying bird, as they could cause him to instantly fall. But, the eagle had been lucky, the wind had carried the scent of old magic and dark power deep from time like a corroding hand. Still, the chill in his feathers lingered for days under the high sun.

§

Giants, Dementors, and wizards. Strength, intimidation, power. The army of Lord Voldemort camped under the low valley, Death Eaters marching to their final hide-out. Their numbers reared over 2,000 in just that valley. The game was approaching, the pieces moving to the starting point. The wager was all of England, perhaps the entire world. Boy fought man, bound by prophesy. And Death itself had now entered, a third force that struck randomly at both sides. All that awaited was a sign,

A movement,

A start,

A first strike.

§

A/N- Sorry about the shortness, I wanted to give another pov before we went beck to Daemon. The eagle view was just a little add-in. So what do you think of Draeg Darkling and the force of Death?


	13. Though I Bury my Love

§

Miles away, a boy of sixteen named Harry Potter laid in his bead, his mind roving to and fro in the restless anxiety of sleepless night.

_Ex- Professor Remus Lupin's Office: _

_They filed into the dim office, above said, Headmaster, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Celia, and the detailed phantom boy. _

_"Now I am sure you all have questions, but may I advise they be short and well-chosen as I have less then a safe 20 minutes in this form." The translucent being said loftily._

_"Er...well" Harry waited for a nod from Dumbledore to start. "Mr..."_

_"I was Daemon to you before and I am still Daemon, no matter what the form." A faint smile checked his face._

_"Daemon—what exactly... what are you?" Potter tried to be as tactical as possible. _

_"A very broad question Harry, my apologies if anything I say is disrespectful. I do try to observe proper behavior, but being away from civilization as long as I have and having Blair as a teacher isn't exactly benefiting." Daemon began, natural rhythm in his speech. "In best words, I am a spirit of a fifteen-year old boy, locked into a phoenix body. How I came to this state is a long and harrowing tale that I do not have the time to tell even if I wanted to, which I don't."_

_"Then are you a phoenix or a human?" Hermione asked, academically interested._

_He cocked his head in a very bird-like way and thought for a moment with his vivid blue eyes shut. "I was born a human, but this body is rubbing off on me and I have undoubtedly gained many beast-like mannerisms." _

_Celia stayed slightly in the shadow, but even so the observant Daemon noticed her blush._

_"Oh, don't worry Harry or Celia. When I entered your bedrooms I was far more phoenix then boy."_

_This only slightly comforted the girl._

_"Why didn't you ever tell us you were human if you are a friend?" Ron asked, warily._

_It was then he gave a laugh, a light tune reminiscing of a merry phoenix song with great poetic beauty. _

_"What? Poof into your bedrooms one night as a teenager's soul. If I was lucky you would scream and run. If not you would probably get out your funny little sticks and blow something at me." He replied._

_"These are wands, don't you know that?" Harry demanded._

_"I am no wizard, and I have never heard you call them that before. All my knowledge of your world is gathered from what I observe and the phoenix Faux tells me." The red-head stated._

_"How, may I ask, was it that you came to preserve your soul into the mythical creatures body without the use of very powerful magic? It would take as much to do so." Dumbledore finally spoke, his face partly hidden in the shadow._

_The phoenix ghost angled his head the other way. "Blair doesn't like you at all, and I am still deciding. But you were brave against the guardian so I see no danger in answering your question." He spoke half to himself. "I myself am no wizard, but that does not mean I do not know others of your kind."_

_"Do you mean Professor Kryeen—" Hermione blurted, but suddenly Daemon held his hand up._

_"My time runs short and I dare not challenge it, until we talk again." _

_The transparent flesh shortened and the arms spread longer with the nose. His legs shortened and toes sharpened as red plumage broke out over the body. It shaded in as the transformation receded, nose coloring gold with short legs and toes. Then their was the small phoenix, only the icy eyes remaining._

_§_

_"We'll have to report it to the Order. Daemon could be helpful if he is willing, and if you trust him." Remus added with a glance to Dumbledore._

_"I, of all people, trust him Remus. But perhaps it should not be me who you ask." The wizened headmaster replied while cleaning his nails._

_"I trust him, he had loads of times to kill me before." Harry stated firmly._

_"Yes, and that was very unwise of you Harry." Albus looked straight at him and the boy-who-lived felt pierced by his cerulean gaze. _

_"Of all the protections Hogwarts, I, and the Order give you; we cannot protect you from yourself. So I ask that in respect of others, that you please show more caution. It would be a terrible loss to all of us Harry, if anything were to happen to you. Remember that."_

_Hot shame crept over the last of the Potter's._

_" Well, I think it is time we all go to bed. I have a suspicion that the creature will neither bother us in daylight or appear after its warning tonight. Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, Mr Potter kindly return to Gryffindor with Remus. Miss Magnetine, I shall escort you back to Slytherin."_

The night had long past, and he still felt ill. Harry Potter, the brave and noble boy-who-lived. Harry Potter, the naïve boy who demands attention and likes to play hero, the price of which was his godfather's life. Harry Potter, the teenage heartthrob and tragedy, average student and great Seeker. Harry Potter, the foolish boy who knows nothing of waging a war, as that is what he must do.

The letter still lie on his desk, the ink already fading. Still, its words were seared into his mind.

_Harry,_

_This is a small up-to-date on all of us. We have found a snake, great isn't it! Two jokers have joined us and we are all having a jolly time, they turned out to be creative engineers. A dear friend you must meet next time we are in town has told us that some of Grawp's family are with those horrible things you fear, and seem to like the snake we found! A few friends you know are coming to visit your house with a box of fudge and promise to deal with your angry two-year old. Some of our unpleasant neighbors have begun to walk over and visit the snake we found. We are trying to tell them to go back to their yards, but they won't listen. So we called that dear chap Moony from your house and he'll talk some sense into them. Don't worry, lots of others will be visiting you to keep away the loneliness! Tell us if you want to see anyone in particular, but don't use that silly white bird of yours—she bites too much! Give all your letters to the Cat—she'll know what to do with them._

_Sincerest greetings, _

_Your dear uncle and aunt._

_§_

Anyone who had ever met Petunia and Vernon would know very well that this letter was not from them, but any Death Eater or nosy official to find it would see nothing wrong with it. A bit odd, from eccentric relatives and give it no more thought. Yet, to Harry it meant a great deal. His head still spun. Giants and Death Eaters had already chosen Voldemort's side and the werewolves at the very least were considering it along with something else. And what did the Order have? A sixteen-year old boy born with a prophesy.

§

Days went by with the-boy-who lived's mind in this self-hating frame. Though nothing came of it for months, these thoughts would cause a change in the very core of all things magical.

His days began with Hagrid and the Chatdemer in Care of Magical Creatures. If nothing else, Harry's crude sketching became better and he got some sleep as the fear wore off of the vain little creature. From there he moved to Potions, which he had no clue as to how he passed into Snape's class and neither did Snape apparently, as he clearly stated each day. He was sure to fail this year. Ron and Hermione tried to coax him to talk, but Harry felt no wish to join them, but rather to fall into himself and solve this dilemma which had no real answer. Ginny, in fact was the person who got him to speak.

§

_Harry James Potter sat outside on one of fall's last warm days. The great lake glistened with the dull autumn sun and the giant squid splashed water at a group of seventh years who dared to chuck rocks at it. The sky had the dreary, warm gray coloring of the season and a chilly wind swept by. He leaned against a tall elm tree long shed its leaves. Cushioning him was a small mound of leaves, colored brooding crimson, eccentric orange, enjoyable yellow, and mourning browns. Harry leaned back, half-shut his eyes as thoughts hounded him. Moody had left a week ago to this day. Now he had no Occlumency teacher on top of everything. Dumbledore had offered, but for the first time Harry refused his beloved Headmaster. Lupin would at least understand his feelings, Albus would only pity him or worse, be ashamed of his despair. Dumbledore had never given up hope,never been weak like he was. A soft rustle of leaves disrupted his thoughts and the scarred celebrity opened one eye fully._

_A girl was sitting beside him, her flaming hair dancing in the frost-bitten wind and pale cheeks slapped by it. Her tawny eyes were accented by the colors around her, and for the first time Harry Potter saw Ginny Weasley as beautiful._

_"Hi," He managed to utter._

_She gave him a soft smile. "Hi Harry. I am sorry to bother you,but I was hoping I could sit with you for a while." _

_He blinked his jade eyes in surprise at the formal question. "Sure, any reason why?"_

_Ginny gave a fun little laugh. "Well... to tell you the truth I am hiding from Neville. He seems quite taken to me, and—well if it was anyone else I would just laugh and tell them to get a life, but Neville... he means well--" _

_The raven-haired teen couldn't help it. He laughed. "I'm sorry, I was imagining Ron's face if you and Neville ever went out."_

_The amber-eyed girl laughed with him, and soon they were both in fits making comments about her brother's face._

_"He would get all red in the ears like he always does!"_

_"Oh, and his eyes would slant—he thinks he looks so cool when he does it but it makes him look like he needs glasses..."_

_"Yeah, and that vein in his neck would pulse and make him look like a dying turtle--"_

_"Haha! And his lips they turn in that bizarre form..."_

_Finally their screams of amusement died down. _

_"I did—didn't think anyone else would find him that funny. I thought I was the only one who noticed those things." Ginny panted._

_"Ron's my best mate and all, but that doesn't mean he doesn't do the stupidest things sometimes. I'm sure we all do stuff like that." Harry replied._

_"I—I don't think my lips could--" She chocked between giggles. "Twist—that way--" Another bout of laughter._

_"Oh, and Draco, whenever he gets angry he hold his head high and it makes his nose look sooooo long!" The youngest Weasley continued._

_"Introducing Malfoy, the living Pinocchio. Say something witty around him and his nose grows!" Harry announced._

_"That can't be hard." She replied wickedly._

_Suddenly a figure appeared on the fading lawn that disrupted their fun. Neville Longbottom can out, tripping over his own two feet as he scrambled around for Ginerva. _

_"Drat! Hide me please—I don't want to be mean to him!" The red-head begged quickly._

_"Lay on the ground." He instructed, burying her with leaves and then standing casually against the tree just as Neville came bumbling by. _

_"Harry," He gasped. "Have you seen Ginny. I have to ask her something."_

_The-boy-who-lived felt guilty as he shook his head. "No, Neville—Sorry."_

_"It's—It's fine." He breathed, jogging around the bend again._

_"Is he gone?" Ginny's easy-going voice came out after a moment._

_"You can't avoid him forever you know." Harry reminded her, extending a hand to help her up. His stomach suddenly flipped as he grasped her slender hand. Of course, he had gotten that sensation sense his fifth year._

_"Yeah, maybe I'll get a boyfriend...I could ask Dean, he's always been nice to me..." She muttered thoughtfully._

_No! A forbidden voice in Harry's mind growled. Outside, he simply shrugged. "Well I had better get going."_

_"Wait!" Ginny stopped him suddenly. "You never told me what you were doing out here." _

_Trying to figure out how to defeat the most powerful dark wizard to ever live. He thought bitterly, giving a forced smile. "Just, trying to get some time to think."_

_The only sister Weasley gave him a searching look with her mysterious brown orbs. Then she nodded, and Harry knew without a doubt that she had understood him._

_"Well I hope everything works out. We should chat more often Harry." Her words suddenly came out fast._

_The boy nodded with a genuine smile this time. "Yeah we should. See you around Gin."_

_§_

Of course, he reminded himself for the tenth time that day. He had hidden his feelings for the youngest Weasely quite well, but they began to surface again. Still, no matter what he felt, nothing could come of it. He could NOT go-out, not at least until Voldemort is dead or... _Voldemort is dead. _He reprimanded himself quickly. She was his best friend's sister anyways. And he-who-must-not-be-named would use her, just like Sirius. No, he would only cause Ginerva Weasley pain, even... death. No, there was certainly no time for dating.

§

A/N: What did you think of Daemon? And for those who thought Harry was going to hook up with Celia... well we'll see about her.


	14. Tasks of Heart, Skill, and Blood

§

Professor Kryeen's decree that neither Harry, Ron, Hermione, or Ginny should enter her room did not seem to apply to lessons. None of them thought too hard into it. Hermione thought Dumbledore or the Ministry had tried to take Harry out of her class so she let him in. ('Rebellion of a child.' She had said.) Ron and Ginny were under the impression that she was waiting to get one of them alone and finish what she started. Harry couldn't guess, but his curiosity had piped up and he decided that he would try and find out as much as he could about the strange professor. When Hermione objected, the-boy-who-lived pointed out that if Blair was trying to kill him still, then it would be good to know her weakness. They formed a kind of group, bound together by a common question, a timeless friendship, and a named enemy.

§

For once, the fiery teacher was there to greet them. The fire-lit walls flickered off gold and scarlet tile, causing the painted phoenixes to dance. Blair stood tall, the strange necklace of six beads, three white and three black, on either side of a long red feather, shook when she walked around the classroom.

"If anyone doubts my power now, please speak—if not then I shall continue with my lessons." Her rich, bold voice commanded the sixth years attention.

"Professor—what about the... guardian out there? Shouldn't we—er, get it back—or something?" A hazel-skinned Ravenclaw asked.

"Why, it has done me no harm." She replied carefully, looking into the jade seas of Harry Potter for a reaction. He in his part, was determined not to give her one. The last Potter was getting quite good at concealing emotions from his Occlumency lessons with Lupin and rifts with the Hogwart's Potions Master. Still, he was sure an instantaneous smile lit her spicy features.

"But what about Jamie Nickson? That thing would have died if Professor Dumbledore hadn't showed up—and even he couldn't kill it!" The knowledge that their beloved Headmaster could not overthrow the menace brought a hounding dog of fear, and buzzing memories of another creature, another year, another victim...

"Well then it seems that Albus can take care of it." Blair's words were evenly enunciated and subtly laughing. "But I am not burying the coffin again, so may we continue with our lesson?"

The trio glared angrily at her, while the rest of the students had a combination of confusion and hurt in their eyes.

"But before I begin," Professor Kryeen continued. "I will have to measure your skills, then I can find where we shall begin. I'll call people by name into the center of the room." With a flick of her wand the round tables flew to the edges of the room along with chairs.

"I shall give each of you a little test, just for my knowledge, not as a grade. Now then, everyone ready?"

Hermione shot Harry a frantic look that he was determined to ignore as Neville turned almost green with unease. Only the heavy clod of the young professor's boots echoed around the room as she pulled out a long scroll from her desk.

"P-professor?" Dean Thomas managed to stutter, and the-boy-who-lived got a strange growl of satisfaction from the pit of his stomach. Ginny had asked him out.

Blair paused, pools of golden flame piercing his ghastly skin as she glanced up.

"Will it ...er... be dangerous or... anything?" He muttered.

A saucy, cruel smile flirted with her face.

"Not for a level six student. Now, lets begin—Alan?"

A Ravenclaw boy with pale, freckly skin and mousy brown hair stepped forward, trying to hide his fear.

Kryeen drew her wand, holding it tightly with fingers wound as if it was a dagger poise in defense across her long black shirt. Alan stood opposite her in the clearing, surrounded by students and silence as flames crackled around him. He drew his wand, placing feet and bracing his wand to taught dueling form.

Blair shut her eyes, a crimson strand of hair falling over her closed eyes. A breath passed, and then... the golden orbs shot up.

§

It was a blur, a mix of color and sounds of surprise with a sharp bang. She had charged, bringing her wand abruptly into attack position, one hand gripped, point titled forward. Her charge was done, obvious by the way she allowed her wand to search upward and her agile feet to overlap as she trod in a circle, never taking her eyes off he boy.

Alan got to his feet with haste, looking no worse then surprised and winded. Gripping his wand and steadying his feet, he shouted.

"EXPELLIAMUS!"

The line of red light threw itself at the tall figure. Blair launched herself left, avoiding the spell and catching herself on her feet as boots cracked upon tile. In the same movement, the body moved with ethereal power. From the jump, the professor twisted her legs to move for one second into a perfect attack position as she descended to the floor.

Without a sound, she replied with another spell, her wand crossing into the form with stunning speed.

The brown-eyed boy flew across the room, landing on th floor at the feet of the right wing audience.

Blair on the other hand, had already stretched out her powerful lean arms and propelled herself off the floor to prevent her fall, doing a back-hand-spring to stand tall and ready the next moment. The entire sequence from "expelliamus" to Alan's fall had taken less than thirty seconds.

The Ravenclaw struggled to his feet again, his cheek bleeding a little from the fall and looking very sore. But an angry light lit his face, making him seem older.

"Luminarium Venator!"

A sparkling ball of ivory light formed, looking like suspended champagne as it grew a long tail and became a jet of crackling light. Alan threw up his wand, pointing it harshly at his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. A pale red tinge entered the light, and it shot forward to her.

With recoil, the older woman twisted back and the spell slid past her... and turned around again.

The curse she muttered under her breath was cut out by the hiss of the spell, which the crowd could now see, had taken the form of a wolf of ivory light. It hurtled back at her, gaining speed as it closed into its prey.

Kryeen ducked under it, the tops of its paws smoking her hair. With a small scream, she swung her wand up like a chopping sword, waiting perhaps five seconds for the summoned creature to come upon her again. Instead of moving this time, she leaned down slightly, bending her knees for balance and placing her feet out while arms crossed each other over neck and face, wand held over them by two fingers.

The spell turned burning red as it got ready for the attack, inches away.

There was a bang, a billow of smoke covered the field.

Everyone stood with baited breath, Alan looking wide-eyed.

A second passed, and then another, and the smoke began to clear.

The mousy-haired boy found his neck pricked by something, and as the gas entirely cleared he saw Blair, wand point pressing lightly into his neck.

"It's done." She told him with a nod, allowing the boy to half-walk, half-sprint into the crowd. There was no scratch on her, but the long redwood wand in her hand smoked. The professor glanced back at parchment list of names on her desk. A quill spun into action, writing something next to 'Alan Parker'.

Without another moment she called again. "Zachary,"

§

Names went by of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Each time they had a quick and highly unorthodox duel due to the strange style of their teacher. No student came out with more than a cut, although one boy sprained his wrist when he tried to do a move too complicated for him. The quill scratched on the paper the entire time now, jotting notes on the long parchment. As time continued, the students began to lighten up, cheering for students of their house, friends, or even Professor Blair. The fire crackled, the tiles screeched. Time went by, until:

"Hermione,"

Miss Granger tightened her grip on her wand as she stepped forward, head held high as her cocoa eyes glared at the older woman.

Ron whispered into Harry's ear.

"If that bloody wretch goes after Hermione we'll both jump her—okay?"

Despite the grimness of the situation he couldn't help but smile.

"I think Hermione will hold her own, but of course we'll protect her if anything comes to it." He trusted Hermione, but Harry's own protective nature had kicked in.

There was a pause.

"She looks pretty with her hair tied back—I mean... er, prettier then usual, you know? Not that I..." Ron began to stumble over his words, going red.

"Yes, she looks prettier with her hair up." Harry helped him out by simply agreeing with him, but then adding. "I'll tell her you noticed."

Ron gave him a glare and then laughed when he saw his best friend was just joking. "Who knows, she might turn you into a slug."

Harry smiled, but from years of knowing the Weasely he could tell Ron was switching the subject. He would be happy for them, if they got together. But it could cause so many complications as well...

"BEGIN!"

Blair's voice startled him back to the duel now taking place.

§

Hermione managed to duck under the first assault, rolling on the floor and jumping up as quickly as possible.

Her opponent gave a taunting smile. "You've been watching me—how clever of you."

The girl didn't talk, instead she drew an intricate design in the air with her wand and shouted, "Luminarium Series Acc!"

Brilliant white light sprouted from her wand, and for a moment everyone in the crowd was blinded. When their irises adjusted to the light, they saw Blair standing with white hot chains biding her wrists and ankles, pinning her in place.

"Is she going to beat her?"

"Do you think Hermione's won?"

Murmurs surged through the crowd.

Kryeen looked idly down at the bonds.

"It was a good idea, preventing me from using speed and movement by binding me—certainly the most intelligent move I have seen all morning. And had I been just a witch you would have undoubtedly beaten me."

"What do you mean?" The female of the trio asked carefully.

A dangerous smile matched her brilliant fiery eyes. Sweat drops rolled down her smooth cheek.

Suddenly, she began to glow. Not around her, not in the air or the ground, but her _body _actually started to fill with light. It grew steadily, mounting until the class had to shield their eyes for it outshone even the chains Hermione's spell had summoned. Then there was a crackling sound, the screech of metal upon metal and the sound of burning rubber.

The light faded and Kryeen stood still, no longer glowing but continually holding her firen beauty and powerful aura. In fact the only change was that in one slender hand there was a small ball of light no one could look directly at, as if it was a mini sun; and the chains that had been casted lay broken and lightless on the tile for another moment before they vanished entirely.

Absolute silence filled the classroom.

"How--" Hermione was shaking a little, but her wand never lowered and her grip only tightened.

"Although light is not a direct attribute of my magic, it is not beyond my reach, though it did take years of training to achieve the full control you see now." Her flavorful voice pierced the air into shattering bits and her fist clenched against the small orb of light. One quick contraction, and it cracked and dissipated into a million tiny pieces.

Harry knew she was scared now, from the fearful glance into her eyes; but her expression only hardened and she stepped back into dueling form.

"Hermione get out of there." He whispered hotly.

There was a pause, and then it began again.

Blair Kryeen knocked the smaller girl physically to the ground.

"Ignigena Furis," In a show of irony, the spell the professor used caused a cord of fire to wind across the teen's body, binding her legs together and then crossing at the chest, leaping over the heart to wrap around the neck.

"They are loose now, but if you struggle they will tighten and burn you." The new DADA teacher spoke smoothly.

Hermione breathed evenly, forcing her pulse down while Seamus Finnagin and Dean Thomas held Harry and Ron back along with a group of other boys that joined in.

"She hasn't really hurt any of us." Dean tried to help.

"She is a bloody monster—and if we don't go in and help she might--" Ron bellowed.

"If anything, you two charging into there will only make things worse." Seamus said hotly.

Granger's body lie still as her quick mind clicked. With a bare movement she flicked her wrist, silently concentrating on the spell while muttering it under her breath.

Two things happened at once.

The fiery rope around her arm tightened, and she gave a yelp as it burnt into her skin; and a basin of water from the classroom next door came flying over.

Blair plunged below it as the large goblet zoomed over to Hermione, drenching itself over the girl an extinguishing the spell. With a slight struggle, the Gryffindor got out of her binds and managed to stand up, panting and sporting a burnt arm.

"Very resourceful Hermione." Kryeen acknowledged with a smile that made the other girl sear with anger.

But I had best end this now before we cause some real damage."

With a impossible to follow step she was against Hermione, wand tip buried into her curly hair, put up in a ponytail.

As calmly as she could, the girl walked back to a stunned and relieved Ron and Hermione.

"That quill must have taken up half the paper with all the notes it took on you—it was bloody brilliant." Ron congratulated her as she came over to them.

The professor called another student up as the three friends continued talking.

She gave a small laugh, "Thanks, but I still lost."

"How is your arm?" Harry asked.

She flexed it. "It only stings and looks bad, it really is nothing—I've gotten much worse on our own adventures."

The last Potter was thankful for her ease with it, even though her could tell it hurt.

"I'll take you up to the Infirmary if you like." Ron told her worriedly, thinking along the same lines as his best mate.

In the background Neville was running around with his clothes on fire, trying miserably to cast a water spell and put them out.

She shrugged it off and drew her wand out of her slightly burnt robes again. With a simple tap, the arm healed.

"See I am fine—you two worry to much. If it had been one of you boys out there you wouldn't have thought another moment about it."

"Right, with Ron we would have thought much longer about it as we dragged him to Madam Pomphrey." Harry joked.

"Hey!" Ron said indignantly as they both laughed.

"Ron," Her voice cut straight through their laughter and Hermione's eyes suddenly became fearful again.

The red-head only grimaced and stepped forward.

"I do hope she doesn't do anything to him—we'll step in if anything happens right?" She went on.

Despite his fear, the boy-who-lived gave a small chuckle.

"Ron is strong enough, but yeah we'll help him out if it comes to that."

The girl fell silent, her eyes watching. "He has new robes, I'm glad that his parent's could afford them."

Harry leaned down just a little to whisper in her ear. "Yes, he does look nice in those robes."

Her head shot up, cheeks blushing as her friend just gave a secretive little smile.

"BEGIN!"

§

Ron took the first buffet on full, falling to the ground, rolling and getting right back up.

"Expelliamus!" He roared, aiming the red light at his professor.

Blair allowed her wand to fly away, continuing straight forward to smack Ron back into the tile floor again. She looped around again to get her wand.

"Accio Wand!" The Weasely yelled, the redwood wand slipping right from her reach into his pale hands.

With both wands in his two hands he yelled, "Expelliamus!" again.

The crimson lights combined and smacked against his opponent. She flew a few feet, flipping in the air and landing on her feet.

"Come on Ronald, you can do better then that." She challenged.

He jumped up, looking slightly unsure for a moment. "Fatuus Sparus!"

A multiple of thin, silver blades zoomed out from both wands. Blair dodged and swerved passed most of them, but the last blade managed to clip her cheek, sending a thin trickle of blood down her cheek.

"First blood," She murmured, fingers tracing it for a moment before she was up again, sprinting forward with defying speed and shoving the boy a few feet, grabbing her wand from him first.

A crack erupted and Ron winced, standing up again.

"I've got you now, its finished." She told him, advancing easily.

Ron, however did not loosen the grip on his wand as adrenaline filled his core.

"Accio Stone!" He summoned one last time as the professor charged wand drawn.

Kryeen's wand tipped his Adam's apple just as a stone from the broken floor where Blair had summoned Slytherin's tomb from flew and zoomed over to Ron. However, a tall figure was in its way.

The heavy rock smacked straight into her skull.

"Damn it!" She swore, clubbing the teen over the head in response.

"RON!" Hermione called as she and Harry were physically restrained.

The red-haired teen fell down again, panting as life-blood ran throughout his hair.

With a heavy breath, she prodded him with her wand sharply.

"I will continue to fight until you go back into the crowd. I do not punish resourcefulness, determination, or bravery—even stupid bravery. However I admire these traits however, I will fight you and you will loose. You put up a good fight and drew first blood, keep that as your reward." She spoke smoothly, but an appreciative smile and nod told them that she was not angry and her words were indeed true.

Stumbling up in the middle of the empty space he slugged back to the waiting arms of his two best friends, who helped support him.

"Oh, Ron why did you have to continue?" Hermione snapped angrily.

He opened chestnut eyes and a small smile flickered on his face.

"Hey, I'd never hear the end of it from you if I had just given up after a few knocks."

She gave a half-laugh half-sob and tapped his bruises and cuts with her wand.

"I think you've broken your arm and we'll have to leave that for the infirmary." Hermione told him, steadying her breath.

"You did great mate." Harry managed to find his voice, swallowing the anger he felt. When his turn came...

Almost on cue,

"Harry—your up."

The boy-who-lived stiffened and turned to look straight into her golden eyes. She looked back, into pale emerald orbs. Gold shone with taunting, power, and cruel laughter. Green glimmered with reckless fury, angry justice, and steely determination. At that moment, there was no mistaking his Gryffindor calling, or the fact that Professor Blair had been intentionally rougher with Ron and Hermione that any of the other students. Everything fell away, the talk from the crowd of students, the worried glances of his two friends, the scratching quill, the crackling fire and dancing phoenix, the smears of light blood on the tile. No noise resounding in his ears as Harry turned to face her. No sight filled him beside her tall, slender frame, and no feeling came to him except an anger that flowed into his blood.

It was time to settle the score. He would not back down.

"BEGIN!"

§

A/N- longer chapter, I thought I would give you all an early Christmas present. The next chapter is completely dedicated to Harry and Blair's duel, and a cliffhanger to the chapter after that. Sorry if there are any errors, I did try to get this one out faster and with all the holiday preparations. anyways hope everyone enjoyed. And if you want too- try looking up the words to the spells I used—you may fine it interesting. Until next time, Happy Holidays!


	15. Avenger in Green, Vengeance in Gold

A/N- Sorry about the delay... read the bottom for an explanation.

Disclaimer: The song lyrics in there are part of 'Stand Up' by Trapt, not me. While I'm at it, I still don't own Harry Potter. However, Blair dearest, sweet Celia, and mysterious Daemon along with Draeg and Death's Army are mine, so no touchy!

§

A rainy night spread throughout the streets of London. Drops of diluted water and gray pollutants filled the dark, cloudy sky the color of twilight only a storm brings. Cool air sang to the pavement, as all people were safely inside their homes. Few cars whizzed by, people frantically running to and fro for petty reasons because they had to rush to live their short lives; only to spend so much time running about hurrying to live they forget what living is. Down one of these streets, climaxing an centroid of importance was a simple mansion called affectionately the Grimmuald Place. Its blackened walls were for no muggle eyes to see as the open windows left a ghost looking past from darkened corners. Only one window shone with any light, only one with a soul. Going to the old, elegant glass you could see that it led into a large, circular chamber. One long table of finished mahogany dominated the center with its many chairs. A fireplace growled victoriously at the rain outside, its clean iron of cobalt black caging the wicker flames. Only the walls of simple ivory, a new map of Europe and its twin of Britain, were witnesses to the small party that had gathered there.

Molly Weasley, red hair tied up in a tangled bun sat in one of the chairs. Next to her was a long, brown-haired and pale Nymphadora. Both of them were looking towards the people who had just entered the door, a washed-out Arthur Weasley and a calm, stoical Kingsley Shackelbolt.

§

"What do you mean, Fudge has been delayed?" The matriarch of the Weasley clan demanded.

"The Minister does not think that dealing with an insubordinate teacher is of the greatest importance now, with... Voldemort on the loose."

Everyone in the room steeled themselves for that word. The time for fear was washing away with the pattering rain.

"Arrogant man! What is he doing then? Certainly **_not_** anything of use." She continued to ramble with an angry flush on her face.

"Molly, dear..." Mr. Weasley tried to soothe her wearily.

Tonks broke in however. "Fudge is spineless. If Dumbledore cannot get rid of her, then he knows she is powerful. He's a cowering man." Her voice was older, but still rebellious.

Kingsley nodded in agreement. "Tonks is right. Still, not even Fudge can delay forever. He would loose face if word of this broke out to the parents."

"Yes," Arthur agreed grimly. "But how far does Kryeen have to go before Fudge intervenes?"

The silence that filled roused the light room of its old shadow. The taint of death and sorrow that followed its darkened corners, lifting from the half-bitten smiles of the Order of the Phoenix. Death, war, destruction, loss; they all were met in this building, and thought the strong did not show it, all people felt the same.

After a moment, Tonks rose. Her bird-like face set with steamy gold eyes that smoldered with resolve.

"We promised Harry that we would send someone to deal with Kryeen. The kid has been ripped from his parents and his godfather. He was training all summer with Remus..." Her voice faltered, but then she swallowed and continued. "And then at Hogwarts. Harry is fighting for us, for all of us. And we can't even get rid of some bitch.."

"Tonks!" Molly interjected surprised.

The girl didn't apologize.

"Who likes to cause trouble? So what if Fudge is being a coward! The Order has **_grown_**. We have over 200 now from Bell. I say it is time the Order of the Phoenix stops hiding. There are too many of us for Fudge to denounce, and if we do it right we can get to much favor with the people. They are scared and their Minister is sitting in a chair eating cocoa. There has never been a better time for us to reveal ourselves then by stopping a pyromaniac from burning down Hogwarts!"

The speech was followed by a pause, Nymphadora gaining her breath back. All eyes were fixated on her, amazed by the outburst. Their little Tonks, quirky, caring, clumsy; was no longer. Before them stood a startling young woman and powerful witch who may one day make a grand leader. Harry was not the only one to age ten in a year.

Finally Shackelbolt spoke, obvious respect in his tone. "Nymphadora I haven't heard an idea of such great sense from the start of the war."

"We would have to deal with politics though." The red-haired man sighed. "But it seems Fudge has put us in a tight spot. I agree as well."

"Well, then I'll go get Albus and Alastor to see what they think of all this. Then... we'll see." Mrs. Weasley walked out the door with a pale smile on her face.

In her dying echoes, Mr.Weasley followed out the door into the faint-lit hallway.

Tonks went to follow, her golden eyes held a mixture of surprise and grim delight, as she walked to the door.

The dark-skinned man stopped her for a moment. "You have proved yourself Nymphadora."

With a simple, yet so intricate thing as a smile the shifter replied. "I'm still Tonks."

She hit a chair on her way out the door.

§

The flames slid along the walls, lengthening the shadows springing from the room. The crowd around them called, yet no sound was heard. The air, starched, crackled angrily for blood to shed. The floor struck hard against the new intruder, begging for its masters whim. A friendly duel, just a small test.

_What a waste of breath_, thought Harry James Potter.

He was standing in the middle of the floor, black cloak churning at his heels. His wand was held tightly by one sweaty palm, pointing at the red-haired opposite. Raven-wing tresses fell across his green upon green eyes, covering the famous lightening bolt scar. His sun-kissed face was drawn as adrenaline lit his eyes and rose lips smoothed over with embroilment. A small pearl of sweat ran down his nose.

_This room is so hot... And it seems smaller, are the walls shrinking in?_ Doubt conceived of fear began to stir in Harry's mind as he faced the tall form ahead of him, slinking up and down, every rippling muscle a form of beautiful power, immortal and untouchable. The-boy-who-lived shook his head, and the thoughts inside it scattered like raking leaves in the prairie long bygone.

Professor Blair Kryeen was smiling. A wide, broad smile on her dark crimson lips that would have been placed as ecstasy if not for the malignant gleam in her golden hawk-eyes. The shafted-tanned skin had not a drop of sweat on it, but perfection in its everything except for the long shallow mark across her prominent cheekbone. The scarlet to pale blonde hair twisted more, haloing her face in an illiterate wildness that captivated more then a boy among the crowd. The loose clothing aloud for flexibility, the robe long forgotten as she raced along her classroom. The redwood wand was almost alive with excitement, twitching below her still slender fingers, placed across her heart.

_Or the hole where a heart should be._ The last Potter thought silently.

This had gone far beyond student and teacher. This was a rock on the road to defeating Voldemort. This was a rock on fire, burning through everything. This, was a duel.

For the eternity of seconds the two faced each other, non-moving as erratic breaths puffed in the air.. one, two...

Then the spell broke with two syllables

"Be-gin,"

§

The blazing face of mother Luna watched the party far below. The silver glass and shadowed trees stood silent witness to the few racing before them. They were wolves, or would he wolves if not for the large size and strange movement as if they were almost unused to their own feet. Two of these large creatures chased a third, smaller one. It was clearly not a true wolf, as ribs showed a wrong bone structure through a raggedy gray pelt that seemed slate in this half-light. The eyes were showing white as the beast ran on, closely pursued. Sweat flecked from its jaw and the mad fear of a trapped animal give it speed. Yet the pursuers were stronger wolves. One of rough, toughed and torn black hair and the other of a sleek coat shining silver in the light, tipped with red. The grass bent under racing paws, eight following four only a snout behind. Through the night forest, across the fields littered with dead they ran. On, and on under the night. Closer and closer the pursuers came. Until, sister moon watched his fall to earth.

The head wolf gave a strangled yelp, its leg snapping with sick ease on a hidden branch. With a tumble, it fell. In the next moment its followers were upon it, red tongues licking the air of victory as a human look of spite filled their startling black eyes. With a growl, they lunged. And then there was blood.

§

_And to think, Hermione used to say Quidditch was a waste of time._ The thought darted into Harry as his well-trained Seeker reflexes saved him again from one of the red disarming spells. Without a glance, he shot his own back.

"Expelliamus!"

The racket of a glass shattering told him he had missed. Again.

Blair, in turn, leaped forward to lunge at the young player. Her long fingers barely brazed the nape of his neck, and the youth threw himself on the floor, allowing her to go flying another step.

Harry looked up, sporting a large scrape on his shoulder, which had taken the impact for him. Clenching his teeth against the nagging pain, and panting Harry looked up.

Kryeen was standing a few feet away, sweat rolling in perfectly-shaped beads down her hair and sunrise eyes were filled with fire branding in the clear. They both were still for a time, catching breath after that exertion of cat and mouse that had been going on for nearly fifteen minutes straight. Air pumped into her lungs, chest rising and falling in small beats, blood running hard through her open veins. With a strangled laugh she was at it again.

Harry rolled out of her way and jumped up as fast as he was able, just missing her booted foot. Round two, and she had it in for him.

"What's wrong, Harry dear, too used to having everything given to you?" Her Cajun voice taunted.

"Shove it!" He growled back angrily, moving his wand. "**Conjunctivitis!"**

**The lithe sparkling flash of lights streamed straight at the Professor, who walked right through it.**

**"Face it famous boy-who-lived, you can't defeat me. You are nothing more that an egotistic prick who has been catered his entire life." Blair laughed, her eyes daring him, ****_wanting_** him to contradict her.

_Why don't you let me be ,_

Harry felt his blood cannonade to the words, the smile, the _**eyes**_. He was no longer the last of the Potter, prophesied child. He was no longer a simple student with a nag for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was a sixteen-year old boy whose endocrine system was pumping with massive amounts of hormones. And he was really, really angry.

_Leave me alone, _

With a minute yell he sprinted forward towards her, wand drawn up high. The gears in his mind had been temporarily jammed as his mouth formed the word,

"**Impedimenta**!" Hot white light shot up from his wand.

The jet shot the red-head square in the head. Her eyes registered something and for barely a breath she was still, caught by the force-driving magic. Without wasting his time, Harry darted forward and swung a fist, cleanly hitting the older woman across the jaw, sending her reeling back a few feet. But she stayed on her feet.

Everyone had gone silent, with fear and awe.

Blair stood quivering, one hand touching the blood now dripping down her chin, crimson streams forming, splashing to the floor. She was no longer laughing, nor her eyes any longer light. The fire burning bright, it was of an ancient, unforgivable fury.

"You strike at a shadow Harry," She whispered saucily. "You may just hit a candle."

In a movement faster than the mortal eye can follow, her wand had formed a different spell. The boy-who-lived was hurled into the air, spinning around and landing with a painful crunch on top... of Hermione.

Fear rose like bile in his throat, but as he struggled off he heard her moan in pain, and at least knew she was alive.

_You start a fire inside that I could never control, _

Tossing her to Ron, the scar-faced celebrity wheeled around to come face to face with Miss Blair Kryeen.

_You wanna see a reaction? _

Something was burning in his mind. A singular, undeniable truth that was penetrating all else. _She knew. _Kryeen had known exactly how to get to him, known his most vulnerable spot was the ones he cared about. Knew that if she hurt them...

_Come on and cut me down_

_You've gone as far as I'll go, _

The fear was displaced by anger in a rushing typhoon.

_Now you're crossing the line_

_And I am letting you know, _

He took one step north, than another until he knew and saw nothing but her fiery form. She was staring deep into his disquieted seas of green, a hot power lingering within the golden orbs. A moment passed, followed by another. And this time, Harry broke it.

"VINDEX PAVIDUS!"

_Well here's your reaction..._

A great blue thing began to spindle from the tip of Harry's wand, coiling up and around in translucent dark blue braids streamed with green, periwinkle, and gray. The color of the sea. The item hardened into almost a rope, then began to clash angrily as the same substance formed sharp barbs of one hand-length. They began to almost freeze, so that the surface of the weapon was solid and chilled, but inside the swirling water and magic could be seen. It was a whip, a lash of water.

_Stand up! _

Blair eyed the new weapon between slitted lids, then gave a cry as she darted toward him, drawing a dagger from her belt as she went. It had been the one pressed to the boy's neck once, hot to the touch. Hilt of wrought gold and blade long, thin, broad, and a fair ivory color with blood red scar caressed upon it. The silent students still watching saw it flash in the firelight as the two charged.

_I have had enough,_

Harry's whip seemed to obey his mind rather than his inexperienced hand as it shot forward, snapping back to wrap around the teacher.

"What do you think now Blair?" He spat back, seeing blood drip down from her back as she struggled against the sharp barbs of water. Steam began to roll forth, obscuring their view.

"Give in now?" He asked, cooling down finally. It was time this was done.

_Walk away before I finish what you started,_

"NEVER!" She shrieked in an almost hysterical way, allowing the pointed barbs to cut through her forearm as she threw the dagger toward him.

_Face to face I will put you in your place,_

Harry ducked quickly, managing to avoid the full blow of the blade while it still clipped his shoulder. A warm patch grew under his cloak. Still, he gritted his teeth and with characteristic determination, focused on keeping the water whip tightly around Blair as she struggled against it.

_End this game before I finish what you started,_

_Face to face everything will change. _

Suddenly he felt a presence in his mind, like a sudden aura of heat that had appeared.

"_Foolish Boy!"_ His DADA teacher's voice rang silkily in his mind.

"_I could break the whip, but that would probably kill you and rob me of my fun, so why not do it this way... I would so like to see what is on famous Harry Potter's mind..."_

_You planted the seed,_

"GET OUT!" Harry screamed, dropping the spell as he felt Blair searching past the wards in his mind. Lupin had worked so careful to help him build them up and she shredded them like cream.

Scenes passed before his unmaking eyes in a jumbled mess as he fell deep into his own memories. Drowning in the shadows of his past, until there was no sunlight ever again, he descended. Into the deepest part of himself he was thrown.

_How my anger has grown  
Got an feeling inside that I can't seem to control , _

§

A/N- Next chapter is the climax. My sincerest APOLOGIES for the LONG wait! After the holidays were over I was faces with exams, and then a few really busy weekends out... When I finally got a chance to write my computer decided to tick me off by not working. This is not an excuse, but a reason and I hope you all know and understand the difference. Thanks for staying with me. Also, the story is shorter because some of the extra short chapters have been condensed. They are pretty much the same thing, so don't worry about re-reading however!


	16. Swim through Shadows of the Past

§

There has never been, and never will be again, a crash of so many lives onto one day. The werewolf fallen, a girl standing, the team quietly invading an ancient castle, the dueling teacher and pupil that had ceased to be, a dark shadow suddenly finding a flame catch its sight as a snake sat on perch, preparing to march. But as we all only have two eyes to see, one nose to smell, two ears to hear, one tongue to taste, two hands to touch, and half a mind to think; life appears for us in scenes upon a video, with one person's point of view.

§

The great doors of Hogwarts opened with a faint click, barely audible in the muffled twilight air. Nymphadora wrapped the heavy black robe tighter against the chill. Inside her contained camouflage bubble her form stood a petite woman with dark golden skin and ebony hair.

"Did you get it?" The voice came out of the seemingly uninhabited area. A fine silhouette of almost clear mist was the only indication of Kingsley Shackelbolt.

Mundugus Fletcher was standing beside the great doors of Britain's finest wizarding school with an assortment of small knives, screws, and unidentifiable pointy objects.

"Look, just because Dumbledore lifted the wards for tonight's little parade doesn't mean that Hogwart's doors are simply going to spring open. I still have another lock, and it has a funny shape..." The convict began muttering to himself as skilled fingers picked through tools and keen eyes examined the slender crack between doors.

The female shifter looked out at the rapidly cooling night sky. Months had gone by, and it was now just a week before Halloween. _It's been so busy lately, its nice to just be in peace for a few moments._ Tonk's wide pink eyes looked up to the sky. The sun had already set, but its last traces cast gentle lights of pale yellow and brilliant orange into the oceanic-blue colored sky. The streamed clouds were lined in a soft violet color that streaked through the sky with dying red at the edge of the horizon. All this beauty now, but darkness would soon descend.

"Aha! Got it!" Dung pronounced happily as the door gave another click, and easily swing open.

The patched-up thief stood proudly at the open doors, hands gesturing inside as a broad smile covered his face.

"Yes, and you've also almost been loud enough to wake people up!" Another voice gave a low growl, an infamous voice that carried only less popularity than the wide eye of its owner.

The strangest thing about all the talk was that only one body was in sight, a filthy, torn-up pick-pocket leaning against the doors. The other voices had bodies hidden my magical cloaks. It gave the entire scene an eerily dismembered look.

Mundugus shrank, laughing nervously. "Whoa, there Mad-Eye. Look, I do my job and get the front doors unlocked, you and your little party get to go fight the scary witch lady. Everything works out, okay?"

"Right ho!" A younger voice chorused.

"On we go!" A second, near identical tone joined in perfect rhyme.

"Everyone keep your voices down." Kingsley spoke up softly. "We are about to go inside. We all know the plan and everyone knows their parts?"

A small murmur rippled through the invisible companions and one loud 'Aye!' The bodied man.

"Then, Fred and George, lead on." Mad-Eye Moody growled gentler.

Small footfall, and than the entire party moved into Hogwarts. Though they did not yet know it, it had become a race against time. And time had become Kryeen.

Let the games begin.

§

Harry was in agony. He had his mind penetrated before, in his Occlumency lessons with Snape and Lupin. But those had been quick, and he endured them so that way it could never happen again. He endured it to defeat Voldemort. Even when the Dementors had brought their frigid aura and delve him into the freezing lakes of his shadowed past, they were images only he could see. Harry could protect, could hide what he knew deep to his very soul and lock it into the morbid part of his existence where it lay dormant, being without causing anyone else harm even as it bled at times into his heart.

But this time, the break was very different. Potter could feel his Professor breaking through his mental barriers, her intensely heated aura a blind spot in his mind as she shattered through his walls like glass, breaking him. Further she plunged, wreaking havoc upon a sixteen-year old's mental self. When the-boy-who-lived recalled the feeling after a time, he could only proportion it with rape.

Then they came, the memories.

_Once again he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres... His heart was beating very fast now... He was going to get there this time... When he reacher number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows..._

_But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal... Harry's stomach contracted with fear... with excitement..._

_A voice issued from his mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness, "Take it for me... Lift it down, now... I cannot touch it... but you can..."_

_The black shape on the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise on the end of his own arm... heard the high, cold voice say, "Crucio!"_

_The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted, and the figure groaned and became motionless._

_"Lord Voldemort is waiting..."_

_Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance..._

_"You'll have to kill me," whispered Sirius.(Ootp, pg 727)_

And how true that statement became. Soon his past dream faded into nothingness and a new, deeply cut memory appeared in its place.

_The second jet of light hit him squarely in the chest._

_The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock... It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging through the arch...(Ootp)_

_"SIRIUS!"Harry yelled "SIRIUS!"_

Bellatrix's laughing voice guided him to the next vision, as waves of emotions crashed over him; hate over her shallow face, sorrow over Sirius's fall, and regret over leading them all there. It was his fault, always was.

§

A figure strolled across the lonely hallways, filled with scatterings of students trading wizarding cards, reading books, casting spells, and simply enjoying one another's company. The tall glass windows brisked in the day's last light into the torch-lit hallways. Stopping now and then to wave, or smile and chat, the girl made her way to a more secluded hall, her small feet echoing every now and then off the marble flooring.

Celia Magnatine was quite a popular girl. Her quiet disposition and never-ending smiles made her good company, and stunning looks a good catch. Yet, in the secret place of her heart she needed to be left alone at times. Quiet and shadow, to sit and think. It had become increasingly difficult with the Guardian of Slytherin on the loose, but the creature seemed to be sedated for now.

So naturally, she had stolen this break to stroll around the ancient castle so new to her, simply letting her mind wander and eyes rove over the artful design of the building she was now residing in.

Yet fate had other plans.

And in its own subtle way, it guided her subconscience steps down and around corridors, up stairs, across landings, and through doors. Until she came to rest at a classroom familiar to her. Then the girl noticed where she was.

Celia looked up at the tall double doors, bolted on the inside. She had been to this particular room more often than most, and knew the danger and prize that awaited through its sealed gateway. However, this was not her focus now.

_What is that?_ She wondered as sounds fled through the thin cracks of stone. Glass shattering, and footsteps, loud ones. Celia hesitated, than slowly leaned her head against the warm door, brown hair cascading down her face as she listened intently. Now something else was unfolding, someone screamed a spell, one she didn't know very well, however she had caught the Latin word for water.

_A water spell? What is the Professor teaching them?_

Then there was a louder cry filled with adrenaline and heat, the familiar voice of Blair, an explosion that rocked the very stone the 6th year was standing on, and then a muffled silence. Celia held her breath, her heart suddenly racing and her deep azure eyes checked with worry, insecurity, hesitation even as her imagination hurled itself into overdrive and sent visions through her head. And then another feeling, one familiar and real to her, yet so far from reality. An ethereal hand trailed down her back, pushing her towards the door and mist began to fill her mind and the air whispered in her delicate ears.

"_Open the door, save him... See inside and save him... He must live... Open the door..."_

The teenage witch knew better than to ignore or disobey the voice. With a slightly shaking hand and forlorn thoughts, her pale, slender fingers wrapped around the door-knob and pulled gently.

The door gave a small creek as it cracked open for her. It was unlocked.

The brunette opened the door to allow a little sliver of it exposed, dipping her face close so that both blue orbs could grasp fully the sight that greeted her. Thoughts dribbled down her mind as she quickly swept around the strange class.

Despite the darkening world around it, the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom was as brightly lit as if under the influence of Amun-Ra. The flames lining the celling were dancing tall and wildly, glancing over the set golden tiles and painted walls. A hot blast touched her cheek, and right below her were bits of broken items; glass, porcelain, and the pale wood from one of the desks. A circle of students had gaped, forming a crescent far from the center of the room. They stood in fearful silence except for a small group, the red-haired boy and curly-haired girl she had seen that night were struggling to get away from five unknown Ravenclaws holding them down with a slightly chubby, bumbling boy with a brightness in his eyes as he screamed toward the two bodies in the center.

Professor Blair Kryeen was half-crouching, her complex hair damp with sweat and even-toned skin marked with streams of blood. Thick cuts sprung at her back, showing through holes in her loose, black linen t-shirt that was now folding into itself as she leaned over the other person, her eyes wild and far-away as one slender, strong hand held him up and another pressed atop his third eye.

Harry James Potter was lying in her arm, struggling weakly as his wind-tanned face contorted in pain, lips pulled, eyes squinting. His lean form shook and hands clenched against some unknown agony.

Shouts were coming from the strugglers in the crowd, but Blair ignored them all as she continued.

_What is she doing to him?_ Celia's thoughts raced in panic, while her face shown with compassion. After a quick moment of indecision, she knew what she had to do. Retracting her head, she closed the door, taking but a moment to steady herself before gracefully running off.

§

It almost seemed digressive, the way the memories swarmed at him. From last year and Sirius's death, to his fourth year and Voldemort's return. The portkey trophy, Cedric's handsome face frozen forever by Wormtail's stream of green light, the horrible, maldeformed body of fallen Voldemort, Peter cutting his arm with the dagger, the foul smelling brew, his own blood being taken to complete the potion. Lord Voldemort rose anew, his laughter, the pale, spider hands and squashed snake-face. Hot coal eyes filled with cruelty and malice, death eaters all around him. The duel, Cedric's body...

Yet good courses wove through as well. His torture, defiance, and final defeat of the dreaded Umbridge with the help of Fred and George. Things as trivial as his column in the paper, the Ministry not believing him, the fake Moody. He saw his first ride on the broom, his instance dislike of Draco Malfoy. Back and back it went, falling into his youth. Meeting Sirius, losing the Nimbus, gaining the Firebolt, his misdeeds with the invisibility cloak and Norbert the Dragon. His loathing for Snape, classes he had taken, summers spent with the uncaring Dursley's, Professor Trelawny's predictions, his first real Christmas at Hogwarts, playing Wizarding Chess with Ron, catching the Snitch. Flashes became too fast and disoriented for Harry to catch. His fight with Tom Riddle, saving Ginny, riding a Hippogriff, his eleventh birthday, going to the zoo and setting the snake free, finding out he was a Parselmouth, his balance going from loved to hated, famous to infamous. There was Collin Creevy, Dolby and Winky, the Baskilsk set free and the trials before the sorceror's stone. It showed his unwavering loyalty to his Ron and Hermione, and their's to him. His mind was open so she saw his growing affection for Ginny, knowing the prophesy, fear of failing, training everyday, his beloved Headmaster that had come to fault, the Weasley clan. Every smile, every laugh, every tear, every scream that had ever passed through Potter she saw. Until her burning presence came to another one.

Lupin, the werewolf who helped with the Dementors. The Dementors who haunted him...

_"Lily, take Harry and go! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"_

_The sounds of someone stumbling from a room— a door bursting open— a cackle of high-pitched laughter— _

_"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

_"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now..."_

_"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"_

_"Not Harry!" Please... have mercy... have mercy..."(POA, pg 179)_

The dying words of the victim's parents floated in his head, and Harry felt himself rent with too many emotions, his soul itself was done. The fiery aura has left a gash in his mind, and then it had paused, letting his mind try to repair itself.

§

Celia was sprinting down the halls, her strong intuitive senses were screaming loudly that the hourglass was on its last grains, falling through time...

A faint click went off in the back of her mind, and the girl halted for a moment, catching her breath. The corridor she stood in looked empty, musty air buzzing around lazily. It was silent, the torches lighting the dim landing as she paused, cautiously glancing around the space. A moment passed, nothing changes. Magnatine stood perfectly still, her slender frame uprooting in the very center. A breath passes, another, the warning gets louder... Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a torch flicker.

The young witch drew her wand and let out a small gasp as a shadow moved in the wrong direction. There was faint murmuring, and the girl steadied herself for what was most likely the Guardian of Slytherin.

A hand pressed against her mouth, and another clamped over her wand.

"Hello, pretty one." A friendly, youthful voice muttered lowly to her. "Look, we are here to help,"

Another voice joined in suddenly, having the same rhythm as the first.

"But we can't have you ruin it,"

"So we'll going to let you go..."

"Just no screaming or hexing, and we'll give you a sample of our newest treat."

"Okay?"

Celia nodded carefully, her face calm and passive.

The pressure released from her, and two figures suddenly appeared.

Obviously twins, with matching orange-hair, bright freckles, smiling faces, and winking amber eyes.

"What are you here for?" The younger witch asked.

"Fred, George, enough already. Cast a charm and let's go!" A gruff, growling voice came from the seemingly empty landing.

"Calm down Mad-Eye," One of the two intoned.

"Yeah, we can't hex her for walking down the hall of her own school, now can we?" The other finished with a bright wink at her.

Moody muttered something to himself about, 'tying them all up' and 'idiots.' But made no move to stop them.

"Now then, my good lady," Fred began again, turning his bright face to her.

"We are here to help Hogwarts get rid of several pesky critters," George thought of a lie quickly.

"And have Dumbledore's full approval. So, we must be off now." Fred finished with a bow.

She looked at him with startling blue eyes, and somehow saw far deeper than he wanted her too, a singularly all-knowing serenity seemed permanent on her face. After a moment of thought, she replied.

"The room you seek is one floor above you, the second door to your left. You don't have much time now, so hurry."

They both opened their mouths in surprise, ready to ask the girl how she seemed to know what they were doing, but Tonks interrupted in her playful voice.

"And to think, we brought you to along as a guide."

"The girl's not telling a lie." Moody said suddenly. "Let's go."

With a shrug, George placed a small green candy in Celia's open palm.

"Cheers for you!" Fred said with a grin, and then the spell cloaked them again.

§

Harry began to feel something different from Blair's presence in his mind. At first it was bare wisps, but Harry began to grasp at them. Her aura burnt into his mind, but the boy-who-lived fought again, regaining strength as he pulled against her, pushing farther into conscience. There was a moment of disorientation, and then Harry saw other images float by as a wall shattered with his mental flailing. These memories were not his however. Snatches went by, searing into his thoughts as he kept fighting up to the living world.

A woman, with pale skin untouched by the sun and dark tresses of hair that whipped down her back. The face was beautiful, sensual lips, a small, straight nose, strong cheekbones, arching eyebrows, and eyes... Wide, hazel eyes flecked with dark auburn to light chestnut.

A small girl, tangled black hair across her gaunt face, long fangs protruding from her chapped, torn lips as dirt and blood patched over her face, eyes a deep, fathomless night. Her small wrists were chained to the wall, and her face was leaning over a dead body, drinking and tearing at it hungrily as the cruel binds dug into her already slit wrists. Bruises, cuts, burns dug into her sickly skin as the horrifying image crossed Harry's sight. The room was covered with dried blood that teased her senses, the body still a little warm as she feasted on it. Weapons of various kinds hung on the wall across from her, out of her reach. Whips, Canes, knives, stars, clubs, a hot iron; all of them non-fatal. This was a torture room. No light penetrated it, so that you could not even see the wall where the chains led to, only the blackened silver cutting deep grooves into her tiny wrists.

A voice, calm and caring, knowing and gentle, was talking. Then there was running, running like never before. The ground was filled with moss, grass, leaves, and damp earth that cushioned her feet and became springs to help her leap across the sky. Wind rushed past, egging her on to beat it, to defy the coursing breeze as the moon illuminated her eyes in soft, comforting light and the dark night sky set the wild, untamed power free.

But now Blair was fighting back. Harry wondered why it had taken her so long. But he soon forgot that as a hard, branding iron wall came crashing down on his aura. The pain was intense, but the determined wizard tore himself up to the waking realm.

§

"Let go of Harry you bitch! What are you doing to him?" Ron roared, tearing against his holders.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Hermione had gone nearly hysterical when Harry fell limp in her arms.

Suddenly there were muffled voices outside the door, and then a loud bang as they shot off their hinges and sent a fine layer of dust everywhere.

"Ron, Hermione!" Tonks suddenly came running in all the confusion.

"What?" Ron muttered, confused by the turn around of events as dust filled the air and a small party of Order members leaped into the room.

"Tonks," Hermione wasted no time, her face glistening from newly fallen tears of fear and anger. "It's Harry! Blair's done something to him!"

The female witch cursed under her breath and swiveled around to the center of the room, where Kingsley, Moody, another wizard by the name of Venn, short, lean, and hawk-faced, and a witch named Marrissa, tall, bony, and almost cat-like in features, had surrounded Blair and Harry.

As the dust cleared the scene changed abruptly. Harry's green orbs shot open with shock, and his professor promptly dropped him, a hiss of pain escaping her lips, but golden eyes never leaving the boy.

Harry fell with fear and hope, and Moody wasted no time in casting a levitation charm. The boy floated a few inches from the sharp tiles. At first, his mind was blank, but rushed, everything came hurtling down. Unbroken, scar-face turned straight at his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. He wanted to scream at her, punch her, or simply laugh hard. But then the strange memories resurfaced. The small girl's image was horrifying and he wondered who's it was. In a question, Harry lifted his bright jade eyes and looked, or more so glared, at Blair. What he met, however, was the last thing he expected.

Kryeen stood still, letting the blood flow slowly down her clear, warm skin. Her muscles were taut, lean body stretched and flaming hair still flowing. But the eyes, the daringly old and angrily new eyes had changed. A fire still reflected in them, bright but contained, so that Potter could see flashes in the back, but they were hard to describe... Unsure, confusion, respect? The underage wizard had been steeled for her wrath, not for this. For in that moment, in that single breath, Professor Blair Kryeen looked human.

It was broken in an instant however.

Racing footsteps and panting breath rounded on the door as Fred and George appeared again, flushed and sweaty.

"Moody, Tonks," The first one gasped.

All eyes flickered away, save for one large, inhuman blue one that was fixated on the professor and the student in the center.

"It's Lupin! He's been attacked!"

§

A/N- sorry over the delay. I hope the length will make up for it a little. So what do you all think? Should I kill Remus? Or keep him alive? And what about Professor Blair? Who was the black-haired girl?


	17. Wolf's Cry to Lady Luna's Pale Face

§

The scene of in the Defense Against the Dark Arts room had not been forgotten, but rather pushed aside to the past crannies of their minds, waiting to be re-examined when the more pressing matter had faded. And what could be more important then the carefully laid, inspirationally conceived, and powerfully combined plan to rid Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry of its rogue teacher? He was currently lying in the school's Hospital Wing, upon sheets dyed crimson with blood.

Harry James Potter stood in numb shock, not wanting to look but unable to turn away. So the emerald eyes just stared in denial as they surveyed the man in the hospital bed. At least, he had been told it was a man. He had been told it was Professor Remus (Moony) Lupin, last of the Marauders. But part of the boy could not piece together the kind, raggedy father-friend with this mutilated body hardly containing its own spirit. The boy-who-lived was ready for Lupin to walk in the door, denounce it as a trick from Voldemort, and tell everyone he was fine. Then he, Ron, and Hermione would laugh. Madam Pomphrey and Mrs. Weasley would bustle about how he wasn't taking care of himself and Dumbledore would call a feast. But then, Sirius never walked in either. So the emerald eyes just stared.

Remus Lupin was a man, and an animal. Now he lay before them and neither claim could save him. The thin, worn body was mangled, and even after Madam Pomphrey's fine work, his body itself looked slightly crooked. His spinal cord seemed to have shattered in two places so that the man's top half did not rightly align with his bottom half. The white bandages wrapped furtively around the ex-professor seemed to have stopped trying to hold the body together. No matter how many times they were changed, they kept washing over crimson, and soon the very bed and crisp white sheets he lay on had pooled in cardinal, grotesque glory. Only the face was not completely smothered. A deep slash ran from Moony's nasal cavity to his chin, still shining bright with fresh-drawn liquid. His brow was bloodied and knotted in agony. The blonde hair was matted with dirt and scarlet as well as the usual brown and gray. The lines along the outcast's face seemed to have deepened, making him look too old and too gone. The soft brown-blue eyes were fluttering feverishly, the only movement besides slow, random rises of breath. Remus Lupin was dying.

Nymphadora Tonks was kneeling before the bed of the man she loved. Tears ran down her ashen-gray face, unable to keep themselves. The black hair fell limply down her back, bleeding blue eyes locked onto his prone form. With one hand she gripped lightly onto his bandaged palm. With the other, she held onto the bedpost to keep herself from slipping down farther. "Remus…Remus…" He low whispers were the only sound that echoed in the silent room besides the ragged breath and bumbling of Pompey.

"Harry," That was Hermione.

His bushy-haired friend looked over him with concern, drops falling down her own face. Not finding any other words to say, she laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry didn't respond to her. Something inside him was curled up and was dying with every breath of his Occlumency Teacher. Ron was trying to comfort Hermione, who was now sobbing on his shoulder, ears bright red as he patted her awkwardly, hazel eyes mourning. Mr. Weasley was on Lupin's other side. The Order member stood with his head bowed, looking weary and beaten. Beside him was his wife, trying so hard to be strong for her three children and husband. Fred and George had not known how to take such pain, and for that they had walked out, somewhere in the long halls of the castle venting their pain and shedding their sorrows. Kingsley was behind Tonks, muttering gently to her and keeping one large hand on her shoulder in some form of soothe. Moody and Dumbledore stood closer to the golden trio, Alastor unreadable as he murmured to Albus. The Headmaster looked aged and somber. The entire air of the wing was charged with hurt, and smelled the vile stench of blood. And so it went on, covering dreams crimson.

§

The famous boy-who-lived began to thaw, and quickly found himself drowning in still waters, searching for a lifeboat.

"Professor," He called to his long-trusted Headmaster.

Dumbledore peered down at him sadly. "Yes, Harry?"

The teen's heart was soundly pounding. "Isn't there anything that can be done?"

Silence. Everyone's eyes looked at the great wizard in his blue, starry robes.

There was a low, defeated shake of his head as Albus spoke. "I am sorry Harry, but his wounds are too extensive."

It finally nestled into the raven-haired boy. Remus was going to die. He looked for a reason, for an explanation as to why this would happen to good, victimized Lupin. And in his desperation, Harry Potter found someone to blame. _Her._

Professor Blair Kryeen, who had almost killed Harry as she saw his most personal thoughts and deepest memories. Kryeen had called for this mission. Kryeen had held them up when Lupin might have been found earlier and spared. The more scar-face dwelt upon it, the more he convinced herself of her fault. Soon his pain had dissolved in clashing fury and Harry turned around, feeling the same thirst he had felt last year in the Department of Mysteries when he was going after Bellatrix. Vengeance. The voices of his friends faded into sizzle as his blood heated up, adrenaline flowing strong. Potter whipped around, wand drawn as he marched blindly out the door. And there _she_ was.

Thoughts swamped Harry's head. He wanted to hit her, to rip her to pieces. The young wizard wanted to break her in every way that he had been broken. He wanted to hurt her so his pain would end. But then she spoke, words he had not been prepared for, words he could not fight any longer.

"He's dying isn't he? The werewolf?"

Blair stood at the doorstep, high combat boots peppering out from under her long red robes. The multi-colored hair had formed back into its perfectly fiery waves, each strand defined across her exotically beautiful features. The bird-like eyes bore into her student, unflinching.

Harry felt his anger fade into a cold emptiness and suddenly he was on his knees, wanting to cry but not allowing himself that much weakness in front of a woman he had sworn to hate so much.

So the golden eyes just stared.

_Lupin is going to die, and all I can do is sit in silence in front of Blair… Remus is going to die just like Sirius… Why him? Why wasn't I able to protect him? I am the boy-who-lived; I have a scar in my arm and a duty to all my friends? What did Moony do to deserve this? _

Harry was angry, with Voldemort for most likely causing this, Blair for holding him up, Lupin for dying, Dumbledore for not being able to help, Tonks for loving him, the world for making the professor live such a life. But above all, Potter was angry with himself. For being a weak child unable to protect his father's last friend.

"_Harry," _Blair's smooth voice echoed in his mind, dispersing his dangerous thoughts.

The green-eyed youth looked up in alarm, and then found that she was drawing him to his feet. Her eyes had that look again, with the fire far back and emotions flickering. She was looking human again.

The Seeker opened his mouth to say something, but his DADA professor beat him to it.

"Let's go in."

In confusion, Harry followed, attached to her almost arm. The wizard noticed in his subconscious that her skin was unnaturally hot.

Everyone in the room stared blankly as their hero stumbled in with the villain of the hour. However, Moody quickly growled and pulled out his wand.

Blair surveyed him with disdain. "Drop it, I don't have patience to sedate you."

"Harry!" Hermione cried, running to her friend.

"I'm fine Hermione." He replied back softly.

With a turn, Kryeen faced the dying man. The golden eyes intensified, something dark checkered across her face. There was a long pause, one eye from everyone watching the new add-in.

"He was a werewolf, fighting for your side in the war?" The red-haired witch commented after a long silence.

_How does she know that?_ The boy-who-lived wondered as her almost-question was answered.

"That's right." It was Dumbledore, shoulders sagging and lines deepening,

"He was attacked trying to recruit more of his kind for the Order." Mr. Weasley spoke softly, seeming to accept that Blair already knew about them.

The young teacher studied the man in front of her more, and the trio of friends could not decipher what was clicking in her estrange thoughts until she spoke again, her voice this time filled with authority but almost uncertainty…

"Leave the room."

A breath, maybe more, filled with silence. Then…

"What are you crazy?"

"Traitorous Whelp!"

"How dare you say that!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Well I never…"

"My, my, my I have caused such an uproar it seems." Kryeen commented with a little smile as voices greeted her in protest.

Nymphadora stood up, slowly and on shaking legs. Tears still dropped from her face in sapphires as the shifter looked straight at the other woman and quiet descended again. A moment, and all the pain from the world seemed to rest with that one witch.

"What else is there that you could do to him?"

Her breath was shaky and her voice bare, but the soul in those words was unforgettable.

And Blair looked back with those oddly human eyes.

"Do you love him, then?"

The girl gasped in air, tears still streaming down her red cheeks.

"Do I… How could you ask that when I stand here not before you!" Her voice rose to level at the end, fury and sorrow running a black scar through her red heart.

"Do you love him?" The professor asked again, harsher.

"Yes," Tonks turned back to Lupin's body. "Always."

There was a pause and all the watchers felt the woman's pain in that moment, her agony.

"Always is a very long time." Blair finally spoke, not looking at any of them but rather of some spectacle of haunt that was for her eyes only, the fire lying deep down inside her soul. "But I can bring your love back to you, always will be up to you both to accomplish."

"What!" The voice of nearly everyone in the room came in soft sighs with gentle sobbing breaths.

The witch turned to them, a shadow over her features.

"My advice is that you leave the room." A whip glazed off her tongue to sting them as she pulled a thimble-sized burlap bag from her pocket.

No one budged an inch, and the strange woman did not say another word to then about it. Shock stills all things mortal.

From the bag, Blair's slender fingers pulled out a pinch of fine, glittering dust. With a bare wrist movement, the precious grains flew into the air. Yet even as she pulled her wrist back a flame began to burn on her finger and she pushed it forward onto the dust before it had time to fall. Enchanting, the flames roared over the room, vanishing into a haze of colors and a dulling of senses. Harry could no longer feel his own body, but he saw colors, a brilliance of shapes and dimensions that never had been reveled in the waking world. Around Hermione's blurry form was a thin layer of pale sea green, followed by a thick band of pink and an aura of gray. The colors cast themselves around her body in the form of large cat, fathomless dark eyes cunning and sentimental. Ron's first line was in goldenrod yellow. The thicker band was a shade darker in pink, rose instead of blush, then his female friend. The misted edges that hugged Ron was a heavy navy, formed into a breed of dog, friendly face with unwavering loyalty. The other people in the room seemed to be moving in some fashion, and kept blurring the colors and shapes around them. Turning slowly and heavily, Harry had to close his eyes from a bright light he suddenly hit. After a moment, the boy-who-lived opened his inherited green eyes. It was Blair, encased in a brilliant light that surrounded her form. Some kind of red bird was in front of her… _Phoenix!_ Harry realized the large, tragic beauty of the allusion. It was facing another kind of creature, silvering and large, with fierce bronze eyes and wicked fangs. _Wolf_. She was speaking in that language, the one of age and power, endless memory and tragic hope. Yet the words rebounded in his harsh creaking language.

"_You have taken his life, and now one must be given. Release the boy." _

The wolf spirit howled angrily in response. It's silver mane was defined and standing, showing the sleek muscle rippling within. Cold, white eyes, glowing without the black heart of a pupil. Icy fangs ran in its wide mouth, slick with foam and spit. It was a creature once caged and now free, and it would not go back so easily.

"_You were a curse, so now be a blessing. Unbind the mortal and run free under the night to race the wind and its call. Cry to Lady Luna, who watches in love from her dark throne of night. Beat the earth under your paws and crush the leaves in silence to defy all mortal bounds of this realm. Taste blood of a kill, and the victory of a hunt. Stand with your pack and face any danger without fear. That is the way of a wolf, grand princes of the night. Your pride is your weakness, is your strength. Have you forgotten that, imprisoned friend? Have you left remembrance of what you truly are for this pointless rage and fury? Would you trade the beauty of the forest to torment this mortal even in his death? Have you truly fallen that far from mercy?" _The great red head of the bird swung irritably, graceful neck burning in orange flame even as crimson feathers showed. The voice was Blair's, but without words, the phoenix was talking.

The protector of night gave an angry howl, filled with the fury over its capture. _"Save the boy? He is the one who imprisoned me in this shell? The idiocy of his human self kept me locked in this body so long, fed me poisons so I could not run to the moon, hid me from the world in shame! It is our way to punish the trespassers, so he will DIE!"_

The spirit lunged forward, but it was stilled in mid-leap, unable to move. The fiery bird soared over it, screeching its beautiful melody with authority and power.

"_Punish the wicked? The world is wicked, night crawler. The forests die, the trees wither, the animals grow dumb, and the people dumber. You have endured a cage in this body, and I have endured a cage in this world. Are you not cruel as them, to strike a man for being only mortal? For the thousand atrocities I have committed in this life, I belong no where but in the pit of Hell to burn forever. But I have payed for them with my blood. I seek revenge upon the world, not vengeance. I am not just, and will not pretend to be. Will you mask yourself in false correct, stand before me and slit your side open if you dare cast that lie!" _Blair's voice rose to a high volume, and the phoenix flame burnt brighter, making Harry turn away. The heat began to singe his skin and made his eyes water.

"_What would you have me do, Aduru Epois, doom-sender? I know you, solder from the army of death itself. What would you know of my kind, of my justice?" _The silver hair was seen in every strand, as bright as any riches in the hot light. But the teeth glistened brighter that pearls, hungry.

_"I may be doom-sender now, but I was a sister to you once, last time kin. I ran under the night, and tasted its wildness. Leave your anger behind and be free once again, to sing to the moon and run under the trees. Let go, spirit of the wolf."_ Her voice had been lowered until the last sentence then it rose in the bird's song, clear and ancient in its raw force.

There was a moment of hesitation, and then the wolf took a step with its back leg, free from the spell. Then another. And with a cry, a howl of relinquishment, of love for its own unbridled spirit, or pride for its after-sun kingdom, it became a white light that split into many pieces. And then the phoenix grew brighter and hotter, until the room was bursting with flames. It cut through the oxygen and Potter felt his head spin, his body in agony and burning flesh and hair hit his nostrils. It seemed like a flash of eternity, and then it was gone.

§

The boy-who lived, had lived again. His caramel skin was burnt cheery, chocolate hair singed deadly. But he was alive, standing on a slant, making his body move as fear for his friends, and Lupin came for him as the scar on his arm stung badly.

"Blair!" He hissed, between clenched teeth, managing to walk. The smoke in the room was clearing, and as it did, so did his sight. In more ways then one. The room was left undamaged, the tiled floors still spotless, the white walls still sickeningly pale. And in the middle was Moony, laying still on his untouched white and red bed.

"Remus!" Tonk's cry could be heard, and Harry saw the deep, scarring burn marks on her form as she ran to his bed.

"Ron, Hermione!" The teenage hero called anxiously to his two best friends.

"We're here Harry." Ron's voice was as ashen as his face, the flaming hair scorched on his head.

Hermione was beside him, her eyes wide and shaking even as she stood, talking to him.

"We are both okay, how about you?"

The tragic case walked over to both his friends, wanting to cry, hug them, and punch something. Of course, all he did was give a little smile.

"I'm fine, what about Professor Lupin?" This was directed to Tonks.

All around the room, the people were stirring. Moody was cursing and walked around, looking in every cranny for the dangerous professor who had vanished. Dumbledore cast his gaze over the golden trio, ensuring that they all were safe, while Mr. Weasley and Kingsley stood up, about to help Alastor. And then it happened.

The sad, worn gray eyes of Moony opened, and somehow they weren't haunted anymore. The back shadow of fear and guilt had lifted, and more then that, his body had righted itself.

Lupin sat up, looking around the room. "What... happened?"

"What has happened, Remus, is something none of us expected." Dumbledore's calming voice rang out over them as his blue eyes twinkled brightly. "Death has been delayed.

"It was that woman... Kryeen." Moony said softly, still looking as shocked as anyone in the room. "That woman saved me."

"...But, why?" Shackledbolt asked the question everyone was thinking.

"We came to kill her, or at least exile her..." Nymphadora began talking softly. "...and she saved you."

Tears were brimming in her hopeful eyes. "Remus!" She whispered, hugging the man tightly.

"Ease down, Nymphadora or else you'll undone whatever the professor has done." A slightly disoriented Madam Pomphrey spoke up, not unkindly.

"Let her go." A familiar, cultured, smooth, enticing voice greeted them from the doorway.

All eyes turned, from green to gray, to the woman standing at the open door. There was Professor Kryeen, her flaming crimson to pale yellow hair twisting in a messy, beautiful way. The shining golden eyes, bright and wild were crossed with the shadow of emotion again, but her classic smirk still played upon a flawless face of inhuman, free, fairness. The scarlet robes swished around her ankles even as she stood leaning against the wood frame.

"Professor Blair how... why?" And even as Harry looked at her, his fury dripped away.

She had done what her had vowed to do, and she had succeeded. There was no way he could hate Kryeen and love Moony at the same time, and his deep disgust to the DADA woman fell into ashes, burnt away by the flames. Blair gazed deeply at the younger, searching something and holding his green eyes for a long breath. Then she tilted her head up, nodding to Tonks and Remus.

"The girl can't kill him now. His body was healed by the very spirit that was killing him," Her words, though spoken in modern English, still seemed to echo the ancient magic they had before, a shadow of what it could do. "However, there is one side effect." Kryeen added, pulling her smirk a little higher as the room's face fell an inch or so.

"What have you done to me? Please, tell me." Remus's voice was calm, but the gray eyes were afraid and sad at what she could say. Would he loose his human self entirely? Had he turned into some other creature? Had he sold his soul to the night itself? Their imaginations expanded tragic incidents of horror in the small lapse it took her to reply.

"You are no longer a werewolf. The wolf inside you gone now, and you are merely man." Blair replied carefully, before she walked through the dark of the doorway. The red cloak faded through the door, and Dumbledore held Mad-eye from following. She went alone.

§

A/N- this is the extended version of the chapter. Sorry about all the condensing and fixing. I promise that the next chapter will be chapter 25... at last. Thanks to all my reviewers you have kept on reading through the disorganization. My sincerest apologies and best Easter wishes to all of you.

Next chapter: Draeg Darkling returns, and Voldemort strikes...


	18. Into the Lair of the Serpent

§

_And quickly followed by peace, ran war._

Crimson eyes gazed deeply at two maps, side by side. The first was old. The brown tinge of age around the edges and deep lines in its faded face scattered across the scaled picture of the British Isles and mainland. The Irish sea went around them, a foaming mass of washed-out blue with small caricatures of the selkie, bowtruckle, and dragons. The superstitions of that age, a people believing in giant sea monsters ready to eat them at any given moment.

_In their stupidity they feared. Fear is weakness. That is why those brainless fools of yesterday are gone—they were to afraid._ The viewer thought, glowering.

The other map was the same size as the first, but it was starched straight and perfectly white. To contrast, the black lettering sprawled across it, along with veins of blue and red for roads, bridges, and pathways. Tiny dots marked cities and instead of mini horrors, the newer map had a compass at the bottom. In fact, the only thing remarkable about this map was at the bottom, it had a small tallying number.

_Ours: 31,592_

Next to that, was a small green figure. Along the map, the green people were scattered. Mainly, the largest percent was cluttered in one outer crop where he was standing right now. Of course, this spot was unplottable to any other maps, invisible unless you already knew where it was, and instead of the kind memory wards the ministry used, this place was protected with a stronger ward. If anyone happened to somehow simply wander to this place despite the fact that in order to get to it, you had to know where it was, unless they had a dark mark, the crucio curse would be cast upon them. It had not happened yet, but Lord Voldemort took no chances. He trusted his sentinels to hear the screaming if it would happen. The said person was now watching the maps critically, small green figures making their way across the lands, down to where he was. And in fact, he was in the very lair where all things commenced, Necro Repsi.

"My lord," A muffled voice from the outside disturbed his thoughts, the the Dark Lord turned coldly.

With a swish of his cloak, Voldemort paced out and opened up the enchanted holly door. A cloaked figure was kneeling before him, hood drawn high and white mask placed so only the cold gray eyes could be seen.

"What news do you bring me, Lucius?" The hissing lisp of his voice, high and velvety so easily secluding others with toxin.

The man removed his mask, allowing the pale billows of blonde hair to free and cold aristocratic face to show. Lucius kissed the hem of his master's robe, and only when Voldemort nodded did he dare stand.

"Forgive me for disturbing you my lord, but the werewolves have arrived. Their leader wishes to speak with you."

"Grayback... I will come out to greet him then. He has been a powerful ally.

True to his words, the dark lord strode out of the room, his dark aura shadowing with power.

_Dementors, Giants, and finally the werewolves. With them in my army led by the Death Eaters all should go well. Should it not however, I do have an emergency plan. I will wait to use it however, much more work must be done on that spell to ensure its success. But I know who I could get to help me..._

§

The party had quickly made their way up to a deserted classroom. As the witches and wizards enchanted the doors and seals of the room, making it spy-proof and unfindable. Their numbers had grown in the short space of time it took to get everyone cluttered into the large, empty place with starry blue walls. All together they numbered the members of the Order that had infiltrated Hogwarts, the golden trio of the time, a wizened headmaster, the transfiguration teacher, and potions master. It only took Harry a moment to analyze the connection between the people. _Order of the Phoenix... _And soon he knew why they had been called.

"Remus, do you think you are well enough to tell us all the tale of how you came to be in such a state that a miracle was needed?" Dumbledore broke the quiet, shocked shuffling of the room.

Professor Lupin had insisted that he was well enough to walk, and walk he did. In fact, Harry had never seen his father's best friend so happy. Even in his old moldy robes, the dusty blond of his hair seemed to stream with less gray, his kind, prematurely lined face had gone back to its previous years. His stride was taller, and though he did not stand tall—as he never would, the good man no longer hunched himself in the shadows. Yet it was the eyes, the once tragic, deep eyes of brown were softened a little. The pain, the scars that his long life of exile had left would take longer to heal and some never would fade. And sorrow filled bitterness would always mark his wake, but he was also glowing with something the werewolf never had ...hope. Tonks, it seemed, shared his happiness. Her hair was once again a vibrant pink, bright red eyes winking in her pale face. But, there was a shadow lingering there. Nymphadora had gotten older, she had faced the deepest fear, and lived in the shadow of her dreams and the face of war. But she was still their, Tonks was happy.

_Blair... she did good._ Potter thought in the silence.

In response to the blue-eyed wizard's question, the former werewolf began his tale. From what he could gather, it seemed that Moony had been sent to patch things up with the werewolves. He had begun to get through when Fenrir Grayback had arrived. The devilish monster had scared the people who had been outcasts all their lives, sent them cowering in the shadows of their own horrors and then brought them out with the sickly light of false hope. This hope was the world coming, the new order of society, the rise of Lord Voldemort. He had managed to rally the werewolves against Lupin, and had chased him through the forests and mountains. His savagery gave Fenrir a physical advantage over the weaker, contained kin. He soon had Remus hunted down, and torn apart with the very fangs and silver claws that had first cursed the last Marauder as a child to present adulthood. That was when members of the Order, young scouts had found him and brought the ex-professor to the nearest outpost, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There he had a brief moment of conscience in which Madam Pomfrey had given him a pain potion, and then he had drifted off into a red-washed place between deathly sleep and painful unconscious. He had only awoke when the fiery tips of Kryeen's spirit phoenix had faded and his eyes met his dear friends and colleagues all around the room.

"Thank you very much for sharing Remus." Dumbledore said politely after he had finished his tale.

Still, his eyes burnt with a cold light as the great warlock continued. "Now, before we have any comments, we must here the story of Harry's duel with our Professor Kryeen and of his rescue, if both parties are willing to oblige."

No one denied it.

So the famous boy-who-lived, along with Ron and Hermione, began to tell about their Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher's little test. It was all perfectly fine until of course, Hermione and Ron went. Then Harry's turn came. Harry told them about what he had seen, his memories, but held back the bit about the black-haired girl. He would of course, tell Ron and Hermione. But no one else needed to know about that—not until he understood it. And Harry Potter would not have told anyone about the horrific child, and perhaps the events that followed could have stopped again, right there. But Albus Dumbledore played his hand now, as a well-developed Legilimency, he could tell his favored pupil was withholding some information.

"Harry, are you sure that is all you saw?"

The boy looked down, debating whether to bring up the girl. Finally he added in a low voice. "I... I think I saw her memories, Blair's I mean. There was a girl... a little girl with pale skin and dark hair. She was in a dark room, chained to the wall I think and... eating something... someone, I think. Her eyes... they were red and crazed and she had been beaten. I don't know where she came from but..." He trailed off.

There was a moment of digesting that information until good Shackelbolt thought to tell their side of the story.

The doors, the walk, meeting the girl, her warning, finding Harry and Blair. And so now, with all three stories told, it was time for questioning.

"Wait, Celia helped you? She is a Slytherin though!" The youngest Weasley male exclaimed in surprise.

His bookish friend gave her classic 'hmph'. "Oh Ron, stop being stupid. Celia has helped us before, remember? Not everyone has such stereotypical views on the houses."

"Oh yeah well not everyone carries a pulpit with them!" The red-head retorted quickly.

"Miss Magnatine is a very special girl." Professor Snape's chilling voice broke through their fighting. "She is quiet, intelligent, and polite; unlike some of her peers." His black eyes glared over at the arguing two, resting on the boy he hated the most.

The emerald-eyed wizard clenched his fists to hold back an angry reply when a soft knocking was heard at the door.

"Impossible, this room is warded from students and even other teachers from finding it!" The strict Professor McGonogall noted, surprised.

"Apparently not." Mad-Eyed Moody growled, drawing his wand along with nearly every other person in the room.

Pointing it at the door, Alastor nodded. "Come in."

§

The history of Fenrir Grayback, while quite fascinating, has very little to do with this story, and so will be skipped over. However his current presence is actually more than an amusing little detail in this tale, as you shall soon discover.

Currently, the said werewolf was sitting across from Voldemort. The head of the werewolf pack, head of all these creatures in Britain, was renowned for forcing his change to come upon them. While it gave him the primitive drive and talented senses of the wolf, this force did had a side-effect. It could be seen clearly on him as he ravished himself upon the carcass of the deer, a tall and once proud buck. Obviously gray fur cascaded from his forehead to his lower back, and small puffs of it lingered along with the golden pupils, slightly elongated nose and claws. Such a beast could never be fully human again. Blood dripped down his almost-snout. The werewolf licked it, the glow of madness, of blood lust that is too crazed for any animal, too thirsty for any human.

"You have been a powerful ally Grayback." The dark lord spoke when his guest had finished.

Panting, Fenrir began to speak, his voice rough and growling. "It was hardly difficult. My people saw your way, a path to our freedom, once that human pet was out of the way."

"Did you dispose of him properly?" The snake-like wizard questioned, his voice hissing and tone frigid.

"Scouts found him before I managed to squeeze his blood dry, but no one could live through those wounds. He was a weakling in the beginning anyways.

Lord Voldemort nodded, his flat face stoical. Inside however, excitement began to thrill his new body. Everything, everything was coming together, piece by piece. Soon he would initiate his plot, and the fall of the world would come. Soon then, soon would rise a new society, ruled by him eternally. _The old man and the foolish boy will fail!_

"Tell me then, lord, what is your plan of attack? I have gathered faithful troops—creatures of night wishing for a new life. We all thirst for this. The vampires come soon, the werewolves already gathering. What is your plan?" The barbaric leader snarled slightly, finishing with his gory meal.

Voldemort graced Fenrir with a look that shoved up far more fear in a being then the words of any others. A stare that showed the pitiless depths of his crimson eyes, no resemblance of human soul left inside. In response, the half-man shifted on his feet, giving a low, uncomfortable growl.

"Do not forget your place, Grayback." The slicing voice of his lord sounded. "You and your kind have been powerful allies and will be rewarded in my reign. However, my plans are unknown in their entirety to anyone except for me. The fewer ears that hear, the less mouths that talk. I would _advise_ you to trust in my judgment." Advise of course, meant demanded. But Voldemort had more important agendas ahead then to waste time flat-out threatening a werewolf and possibly having him cause trouble.

Fenrir cringed slightly, his wolf ears falling back along his head as he gave a sharp, snarling reply. "Forgive me, my lord. I shall ask no more."

With that, the Dark Lord dismissed him, and Fenrir left the room through the iron-carved door. For a moment, the testy wizard took in his surroundings. The Necro Repsi was a fortress like no other. It covered an entire island, all except for a one mile perimeter of cliff, sand, and foliage. Past that, was his wall of spells- unplottable, invisible, spy wards, truth wards, the crucio barrier ran at last next to his proud sentinel of lower-level Death Eaters in their full black cloaks. The enchantments ran throughout the island, undetectable webs of traps and magic. A single large manor- surrounded by an ancient wall with ancient spells of protection from weather and enemy from the Founder's Time rung across its black peaks. The manor itself was large enough for a dungeon that ran underground the entire island, old enough to rival Hogwarts, and with as many spells and wards as even Gringotts could not imagine. For this fortress was built in the time of greatness, in the time of Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, and even Salizar Slytherin. Truly, it was a place to be reckoned with. Even without its timeless power, the Necro Repsi was filled with protective geography. Straight out of the sea, tall walls of stone raised to plateau for the snakes. Steep, high, and dangerous the sides fell out as cliffs. Along the perimeter ran thorny bushes, poisonous flowers, and large rocks. The overgrown grasses hid an sign of the army. And all visitors had to wait offshore, on boats that Voldemort controlled.

This was the lair of all lairs. So kind to even leave the cold iron bars showing and intricate artwork bathed in colors of dead black and bloody red. Beautiful, haunting, powerful...

_Much like someone else I know._

§

"I'm sorry if I frighten you, Mr. Moody. However I...had a feeling I might be needed to answer a few questions." The blue eyes looked through the door, her fair hand still clenched from rattling the door gently.

"Celia?" Harry asked, confused.

He shot a glance to Ron and Hermione. Ron was looking wide-eyed and gave a shrug of confusion to his friend. Hermione had a slightly jealous disdain on her face.

_Boys will be boys and girls will be girls._

Harry gave a confused shrug back, and then returned his attention to the new visitor.

Everyone in the room except for Mad-Eye had put their wand down.

"Alastor, I will have to ask that you do not threaten my students." Dumbledore warned his friend calmly.

The grizzled auror muttered under his breath, but withdrew his wand with a sharp question.

"Your a seer girl?"

"A seer..." The boy-who-lived repeated under his breath.

He thought back to the times Celia had simply been there, at the exact moment and known exactly what to do... pure coincidence? _And those eyes, those beautiful, ethereal blue eyes that pierce your very soul and through._ Then he thought of Professor Trelawny, in her stuffy attic and extreme, fantastical voice. _Celia... Trelawny? _

The teenage girl looked down, the long brown locks shading over her face, covering a small blush that was creeping on her smooth cheek.

"It's... It's something I was born with. I only just learned to control it, Professor Kryeen was doing lessons with me..."

_The pendant!_ Potter thought back to the room with Celia, Blair, and him.. _was that strange pendant part of her training?_

"Miss Magnatine, had I known of your gifts," Snape began, his greasy voice as frozen as his black eyes. "I would have arranged a _suitable_ teacher for you."

"Severus, calm yourself. Obviously, Professor Kryeen has done a good job with the girl." The wise headmaster searched his pupil, who continued to look at the floor.

"I was merely unaware that Blair was constituted in the seer arts, Headmaster." Though the Potion Master's tone and poise showed no disrespect, his tongue lashed at the woman's name.

_Of course you were unaware... You are all so unaware.._ A voice, familiar, musical, echoed along the walls.

Mad-Eye's wand was out again before anyone could blink.

"So maybe the girl got in the room because she foresaw it. But what the hell is that and how did it get in?"

"Daemon?" The brunnette looked up, as the translucent form appeared.

§

Lord Voldemort had again entered his study. It was the most private room, one that not even a Death Eater dared to approach. Located at the end of the third floor hallway, it was easy to identify because it was the only wooden door in the entire fortress. The room itself was well-finished, a fine green carpet, slate gray paneled walls bordering around a large, spiraling bookshelf. The place was filled with the low aura of magic—the new spy-proof charms its current master had placed, and the older ones that seemed to tickle Necro Repsi. In this room, the Dark Lord had found that the bookshelf held a nearly endless supply of books—history, magic, even an occasional cookbook. All he had to do, was think about what he needed, a new spell, the history of London, and the bookshelf would kindly bring him layers of the material. It was here, sitting on the large, throne-like chair of ash wood, carved with delicate artistry to continue the sea-voyage that was engraved on its matching table; that the magic bookshelf had brought him _it_. The book.

With a rare, flickering smile filled with a selfish humor, Voldemort sat down in the tall chair, and summoned the tome with a flick of his wand. It seemed very old, wrinkled, yellowed, weathered, and useless. But this volume has become his most priceless treasure. It was filled with an ancient power, knowledge beyond time and space, power to destroy everything there was, power to conquer, to kill. Understandably the book was written in the dead language, Latin. But then, it was the Necro-Ect, the oath of those who lie. In his study, the most evil wizard of the time had found the book of the dead. And for many nights and days he had stayed locked in his study, unable to learn enough to sate his thirst. The more he learned of this power, of Death's own hand, the more he desired it. And when it became an obsession so delicate, the book had granted him a way to achieve it.

Currently, the pale-spider hands rung through the pages carefully, coming to a certain place. A small murmur of a laugh escaped his parted, lipless mouth as the crimson eyes trailed over the spell again. It was intricate, delicate, deadly. He still didn't understand it all. _But she will. _So Voldemort gave a bitter smile and sat back in his chair, reading the book in his hand. He was in his home, in his lair.

The lair of the sepent.

§

There was a short background of the boy given for the benefit of those who didn't know. After all had quited, the phoenix began to speak again.

"Hello Celia, Harry." Daemon greeted with a polite smile and nod. His eyes then surveyed the rest of the room.

"You two are... Ron and Hermione?" He asked, turning his bright eyes on the two.

They nodded, and Hermione gave him a smile back. Her eyes glowed and Harry knew her mind was zooming with studies and old magics.

"You would be Snape," He continued down the people, a very slight cool in his voice as he gave the name. "Dumbledore... and Lupin. I don't know anyone else now do I?"

"It is nice to see you again, Daemon." Albus greeted his guest cordially.

Moody had taken some coaxing to not zap every spell he knew at the boy, and even know his large blue eyes was fixated on his translucent form.

"Daemon, why are you here?" Harry asked.

He had always felt a bit at ease with the boy. After all, he had seen him through the phoenix, even if he was with Blair.

His eyes suddenly grew serious, long red hair fawning out, a few bangs over his face.

"She saved you... didn't she?" It didn't really sound like a question, but Remus still gave an answering nod.

Daemon shut his frosty eyes, and when he opened them again, a strange smile was placed on his face. Not polite, but hopeful and almost... sad.

"I knew there was a sentimental side of you still. Even if you won't admit it... Blair."

The called woman suddenly appeared from a corner of the room. Not even Moody had noticed her entry, and it bespoke even more of some inhuman aura. Yet when the boy spoke the words, her golden eyes flickered with annoyance, and somehow her face grew darker. It was odd and in some way deeply frightening, to see a candle flicker into dark so easily.

To see her look so mortal, even for an instant.

"Professor..." Dumbledore began, first to speak.

"Shut up old man." Blair replied warningly, striding to the door.

Harry felt anger rising in him again at her simple attack at nothing. But then, the teen realized why she was offense. _She was found._ At that moment, a sparkle of understanding reached him. Kryeen had been caught, and she hated it. So now she was looking for exit, the door, and refused to acknowledge her capture.

"Come on, Blair. Even if you refuse to see it, there is some good in you left, isn't there." The translucent teen said again, a pale smirk on his face.

The trio was quite certain that had anyone else said those words to the woman, they would be flayed out in a matter of a moment.

Her sand-colored skin touching the doorway, slender fingers gracing it as she paused. Kryeen turned around, and she suddenly looked older and almost... sad rather then angry. The look made Potter's stomach turn. It wasn't right on her.

"Do not speak such false hopes..." The fiery red-head turned the door, walking out.

"...Brother."

§

A/N: I am sorry that Draeg did not appear in this chapter, but he will be coming back, so for those who forgot him(shame on you!) look back at chapter 19. Any ideas on just what Voldemort is planning? Anyone see Daemon being Blair's brother? Post me a review with any comments, questions, or rambles about the story! I love all my reviewers who inspire me! Dinero y Amor es tu!


	19. A Woman Called Blair

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Harry Potter world nor its characters. That belongs to JK Rowling. Neither do I own the song written here. It is _Driven Under_, performed by Seether.

§

_Do you think I'm faking_

The night air swept against the new earth, whispering its thoughts to those who would listen. It's all present eyes watching the people in the world it caressed gently or beat harshly. His low voice sung nature's children to sleep, edging the fading flames of life down to simmers as it stirred up the water. It's frosty hue swung across the skies, coming to Britain, and into London. From London the wind swirled through one culture to the next, able to break through the wall only people's conscience had put up. It traveled across the lands to a beautiful, torchlight castle called Hogwarts stood. A single figure was up this night, listening to the song of the air.

_When I'm lying next to you?_

Blair Kryeen was sitting on top of her large windowsill. One slender leg dangled down into the night, one supporting her perch on the warming stone. Her poise was delicate, hands supporting her head so that it a bare push could make her fall into the dark depths of the lake far below. But yet, it looked like no one could ever make her fall, the woman with hair from platinum blond to crimson red, skin lightly tanned from the sun, exotic features of full lips, wide hooded eyes of dancing gold, straight nose, strong cheekbones and a defined chin. She was power incarnate. Wild, beautiful, raw.

"_There is some good in you left."_

The professor gave a high growl, clenching her fist as the words ran through her head again. The breeze picked up against her, whispering his soft voice along her bare shoulders and angered face, calling her forth.

_Do you think that I am blind_

"It's just because of the boy." Blair told the wind as the stars gazed back at her. "I never told Daemon why I won't kill him, so now he thinks I've gone soft."

_Nothing left for me to loose?_

As if the air replied back, Kryeen blinked her bright eyes. "The man though... why did I save him? He is only mortal, he'll die anyway... So why did I do it?"

_Must be something on your mind_

The wind however, gave no reply. Shifting her poise, the woman began to feel restless. A striving energy began to build up in her blood, and the hunger again reached her from the whisperings of the frost-bitten air.

_Something lost and left behind_

Blair stood, taking a casual glance around as she felt the familiar stoic washing over her in the form of superiority. With a last gaze down to the moonlit lake, a dangerous smile dropped onto her face, lighting it up with the hunter's gaze again. And with that, she jumped.

_Do you know I'm faking now?_

§

"Your Blair's brother?" Harry Potter exclaimed.

The locked and enchanted room(despite three unauthorized entries) was suddenly taut with confusion, wariness, and awe.

Daemon, for once, seemed wordless. His northern blue eyes stared straight at where the young woman had walked past, the shut white of the stone door. When he finally did speak, the musical, soothing voice had undisguised sorrow weighting it.

"She has not called me that for a long time."

Before anyone could reply, Dumbledore spoke. "I feel I must intrude, if you will forgive me Daemon. Bit I since a long and bitter tale arising from this room, and for the sake of all of us, I suggest we sit and listen over tea."

No one objected, so the headmaster waved his wand and a number of soft, comfortable chairs appeared in which every body took a seat. Next, the old wizard zoomed the tables over to the center of the newly formed oval, filling each with a pot of tea, a plate of biscuits, and four cups with plates. The transparent teen of course, remained still in the middle, waiting for Dumbledore's nod to continue.

_How could brother and sister be so different?_ Harry thought between his biscuit. She was offensive, rude, and violent toward others. He was polite, calm, and understanding regarding people.

"First, it should be said what I am."

All eyes fixed on his form. He was a colored, detailed human. But if you looked a little harder, you could see everything through him.

Daemon's voice was as captivating as his eyes. "I was a human boy, in fact this body if fairly new to me, as I have only been in it for ten years. I was born... what you would call a muggle, and knew very little of the wizarding world. It was my brother that was the wizard."

"Brother..." Ron muttered under his breath.

Still, the phoenix hearing him caught it. "Yes, my older brother Blayne. He was a wizard, and also my caretaker. From what I know, our family was attacked when I was five by a man. My parents were killed, and I was taken to his mansion, where he preformed torture on me." The soft voice never wavered, but the reflections of the winter sky in his eyes changed, sorrow-filled them as the phoenix spirit told his tale.

"After only a month, my captor had pushed me too far and my body was destroyed. He threw my out, where my teenage brother found and took me in. From what I have seen of your kind, Blayne must have been powerful. For he never attended a school only being taught by the wicca woman in our town, and then only in secret. He had made his own wand, and with his magic managed to preserve my five year old spirit into a new body..."

"The phoenix," Someone intoned.

Daemon shook his head. "No, my body was that of a wolf cub."

Remus Lupin's frame went slightly rigid under Nymphadora's hand. Neither spoke however.

"I am afraid I cannot tell you how my magic works, because I don't know much about it myself. However, I was a wolf then, and for two years Blayne and I continued to live in the outskirts of our former village. We kept to the forest, as I now had an animal form and he, for some reason I cannot name, seemed to be attuned to the forest almost to the point of communication. It was not a bad life. There was soon a wolf pack that joined our existence, fueling my animal instincts to hunt and survive. In exchange, my brother provided food for them in the case of a bad hunt, and protection from other men. This was our life and we were content... then rumor of my captor came wind again."

At this point he paused, giving his listeners as much a break to think over his words as himself time to compose again the eloquence of his speech. After a minute less or more, Daemon continued.

"Blayne...he was calm, understanding and protective most of the time. But also bitter and vengeful over what the man did to me. When one of the wolves brought news that the enemy had been spotted again, and this time with another prisoner... Blayne went after him. It was almost a month before I saw my brother again. And when he returned, it was with a strange girl. She was sickly pale and the dark of her hair did not help. Her body was starved thin, and yet build with power. It was clear she was not completely human, from the way she reacted to sights and smells humans could not grasp to the almost primitive, dark lingering in her brown eyes that spelled out a predator. I wanted her gone, and feared her, but Blayne was insistent. He told me that she had been tortured by the same man, but somehow she had lived past what he had done to her. One night my brother had found a way in and rescued her, and in abandoning the girl would cause her death. At first, she was more of an animal than I was, lashing out with fangs and nails at everyone, even her rescuer. And yet he was a healer, and slowly through many scars, she began to trust us. After almost a year, she seemed human enough. Blayne used magic to help suppress some of her own powers. She was a hybrid of many things, he would not tell me all, just that her torturer had done this to her. I know of the werewolf, because once a month, she ran with us. The wolves taught her a love of nature, fed the wild side of her while Blayne taught her a love of people, fed the human side of her. After much time and struggle had passed, the girl was able to control most of her powers as well as talk. We became a family of sorts, the wolves and me, my brother and the girl. She had no memory of her life before capture, and so we gave her a name. We called her Ally, meaning noble. For she seemed like a noble queen to us, once fed, cleaned, exposed to light, Ally was quite beautiful and her kindness weighed with her power. Ally was stubborn, protective, giving, free, understanding, and happy as long as her powers were under control. Only a threat to her new family would face her, but that strongly. So we lived together for a few more years, and the two teenagers began to fall in love..."

Daemon know was forced to take a break, as Hermione had been listening so intently that she dropped the tea cup and shattered it. Turning red, she gave a muffled apology.

"Miss Granger please do keep a steady hand on cups or do not drink." Snape's cold voice cut through the sudden noise.

"Severus, please." Dumbledore said to retain the peace as he cleaned up the shards and repaired the cup, which Hermione politely declined.

The feather-haired boy glanced over, casting Celia a smile before continuing on when everyone was seated again.

"It was not the materialistic love of most teenagers I have encountered, but rather true, honest love deeper than most will ever know. It was perhaps... too deep, and thus why one drop caused so many ripples." This time Daemon actually had to pause, his defined, sharply beautiful face glassing over for a small breath until he continued, his volume softer.

"But our happy existence was shattered when... he appeared again.

§

He wiped the blood from his mouth, licking the life-giving liquid off his fingers with a horrible, predatory smile. The colorless hair shafted white under the pale moonlight, white as the elongated canines that protruded from his blood-stained lips. The creature's ivory skin was flawless across his aristocratic Italian features illuminated by the heavens. His sharp nose, defined eyes a bright, burning scarlet, strong, sharp cheek and jaw bones, smooth, curving lips. The white blond hair fell in still angles around his face. The locks angled down to the base of his neck, and up for the head so that few longer streaks settled into the eyes. This was a creature of beauty, dressed from head to toe in black. But it was a hunter—the fangs and primal thirst for chaos in those eyes rung of it. It was a vampire, creature of night. In fact, it was the immortal ruler of the nightshade.

This was Draeg Darkling.

The king of vampires was disturbed from his early meal by the sudden aura of magic, strong enough to be another immortal, a Death Dealer, even. Latching onto the waves of power, he soon recognized the individual it belonged to. Draeg curled his lower lip and gave a hiss as he sensed the burning waves, unchecked force.

"Dear Blair—treasured Aduru Epopsis," He spoke to the darkness, glowering in his low monotone. "I am coming for you... And this time, we shall see who leaves with a scar."

§

She allowed the wind to breeze by her, leading her for a time under night's wing. Finally, her golden eyes opened and the heavily booted feet touched the earth with a soft thud. The said person measured her surroundings, taking in the aura of fear and destruction.

_Yes, this is definably a Death Eater meeting._ The DADA professor had gotten used to the familiar tang of fear these mortals felt around their master, as well as the blood lust in their corrupted souls. She smelled sweat and death in the air, saw mortals behind the mask. They were easy to track—a signature aura. His most of all. Kryeen turned, fixing her heated, rich stare on their lord.

"Hello again Blair." Voldemort greeted her with a lipless, almost smile through his slithering, cold voice.

The dark, red eyes of the feared wizard gazed over her sudden appearance without fear or hesitation.

"I was getting bored with that old man at the castle." The woman replied easily giving an explanation without ever being questioned.

"And how is it you find us again?" The Dark Lord asked, however his voice was coldly amused rather than angry. Like a snake toying with a rat.

Kryeen however, was no rat. "Your aura sticks out like pink at a funeral."

Several other Death Eaters were murmuring lightly. The comings and goings of the strange woman had become frequent enough to not shock them, but her dangerous, unpredictable nature left no room for comfort.

"Ah, my dear lady." One voice managed to speak up, a cold, cultured voice with flat politeness as the hooded figure bent down to kiss her hand.

In the changing of the winds, Blair had moved out of the man's pale reach and a spell had sent him flying into the air, falling down hard a few feet away.

"Don't touch me Lucius." The rogue snapped with disdain,

Her face lit up, however, upon seeing a figure that had before been cowering behind a particularly angry Bellatrix.

"Wormtail, I was hoping to find you. I had a nuisance of a day and wanted a little enjoyment tonight." A cruel smile flickered upon her bold face.

The short, balding man gave a low whimper and gripped his silver hand as he managed to stutter.

"M...my.. Lo...Lord...t-them wo-woman... won't y-you..."

Voldemort cast him a look of cruel satisfaction and replied. "Despite what you may think Wormtail, Blair's worth is much higher than your own."

With a wink that would have been flirtatious on any other woman, the hot-blooded being snapped her fingers. At once, the man once called Peter Pettigrew began screaming in agony, his body twitching as his torturer watched on the horrific spectacle with near glee.

After a few moment, the silky voice of his lord reached between his own screams and her faint laughs.

"While Wormtail is a weakling, he does have his uses. I don't want him dead Blair."

In response, Kryeen gave a last, powerful clench of her hands before breaking the spell, leaving the broken Judas sobbing and moaning pitilessly on the ground. She almost retorted, and in the beginning would have, but now the rogue had no reason to fight with Voldemort. It was an unspoken agreement between them that had appeared from simple time—respect. Voldemort did not, and would never attempt to command or control the free spirit. She would linger in his company, occasionally assisting if it suited her desire.

"You pick pathetic servants." She stated bluntly, giving the groveling wizard a strong kick.

The powerful wizard's eyes flashed, but he had found it incessantly harder to truly get angry at Blair anymore. His face of course, was a mask of power and cruelty, but his inner thoughts were changing in the shadows.

"I found a book, Blair. There is some information I would like from it, you might enjoy it as well."

But before she could reply, the very night shifted subtly, and the teacher picked up a familiar, powerful being.

"Draeg," She whispered hotly, drawing a knouter from underneath her robes.

"Where the hell did that come from?" One of the death eaters yelled as she brandished the many coils of her weapon.

"This... this is my favorite weapon—it is with me always." Blair gave a bare, hard smile just as a voice pelted down from every angle.

"_We meet again, Aduru..."_

§

As vengeful as my brother was, Ally was ten times worse. She hated her torturer with a raw, all-consuming fury. Only Blayne could reach her when she reached that wrath, and slowly calm her. But one night, she crept out to kill the man who had become our sole enemy—alone to protect us. But in his cunning, our captor had crept back into our small house. He woke Blayne and they started to fight. He ordered me to run after Ally, and I obliged, leaving my brother and the wolves to fight this demon of a man. I reached Ally and together we ran back. But when we returned, the hour was late. Our hose was smoldering in ashes, caught by the all-consuming flames that licked up the trees. She raced into the flames and what passed there I shall never know. I was with the surviving pack, helping to douse the deadly fire with our own fur and using my human intelligence, water. When the fire had cleared, I was able to go back to the house. That was when my body stopped working. It began to flicker in its solid form, and I felt my soul slipping. I cried out to my sister and brother. And slowly, a hand reached me. It was cold, colder than anything I have felt before as it touched my skin, barely giving me the magic to hold the fading wolf body a little longer. My savior was Ally—her pale flesh cradling the burnt corpse of her love, my brother—Blayne."

Harry felt his pain and loss weigh heavily upon the creature's shoulders. _Sirius..._

"I have never heard a cry as I heard come from her lips that night. It was the mourning howl of the wolf, the starved screech of the vampire, the endless curse of the banshee, the agony of a human heart ripped out from chest and left bleeding immortality on the ground. For three days and nights, she stayed by his body—weeping and whispering every spell and every power she knew to try and bring Blayne back. The fourt day she quieted, and by the fifth she was in a deranged craze. Ally cursed the power that was too weak to save her love, cursed herself for leaving that night, cursed her enemy for taking him. And then, some kind of hopelessness fell over her on the sixth day. Ally lost all hope for life, and drove splintering wood through her own neck."

Hermione could be seen wincing and rubbing her own neck.

"...But the horror of what was done had not yet been fully realized. You see, Ally did not die. Her torture had taken the human soul and twisted it, to the point where she could not die. The girl had lost her love, and now could not follow him. And on the seventh day, my time was almost up—I who had been trapped in a dying body, unable to move. Ally no longer moved either, she simply lay next to the stinking, rotting corpse of Blayne. I do not know what events took place, but before the sun went down that day, my body was renewed into a new form, the one who see before you. And Ally... she had changed as well. Her hair was now the twisted colors of the fire that had burnt out her heat, her dark eyes now brightened to gold and skin given a tint. I only recognized her through the necklace she wore—the beaded one with a phoenix feather, the one my brother had given her. Yet, even though she lived, Ally died with Blayne. In her place, was a woman called... Blair."

§

A/N: Whoohoo—This is a fast update for me! I really wanted to get this chapter out though, the trio can't be kept clueless forever;-P Oh, and for rock fans—that song is amazing, and matched her current mood and the plot down to a T. Another note, I am using some words that aren't common knowledge, so if you get confused just leave a question in your review. For example, I'm almost sure the majority of people don't know what Blair's weapon is... Okay, now then—what does everyone think of Blair & Daemon's past? Was it OMG or WTF? Just drop me a line!


	20. Dueling Immortals & Conflicting Hearts

Disclaimer: I have not gained control of Harry Potter in the past week... but the little verse in Italics is mine. If you feel the strange compulsion to use it... which besides being a little strange, just give me some credit please! Ok, after that little ramble it's on with the story!

§

_I used to feel that I was too strong to kneel,_

_Here by your side._

_I used to think I was too dead to sink,_

_Down farther into this coffin_

_Why have you proven me wrong—_

_When I was better left to wander wrongly along?_

Draeg Darkling appeared suddenly from the falling cascades of night. His black cloak swirled around his high boots. Smooth vinyl pants of the same black shade were tied to his waist with a silver in-crested cord and a constricting shirt of Egyptian silk showed off a trimmed chest. Over-top it however, was silver-metal armor, a band around his neck, a plate around his abdomen, one above each shoulder. Blair recognized it as the immortals famed blood armor, forged by his own hands with the blood of the most powerful men in the country, his own branch of death's magic, and a sheet of iron from the crusades. It created a metal that was impossible to break, and though heavy it was flexible like rubber, bending easy with the vampire's movements. Of course, it had failed its master once, for their had used to be another piece, a strong sheet that folded around his sides to cover Draeg's back entirely.

But that damn woman, the same that stood here before him now, had broken it with the same weapon she now had in her hand.

With a snarl, the death-dealer of the night unsheathed his great sword with hands bound by rawhide over silk gloves. His entire outfit was vain—fine pants, soft undershirt, expensive gloves—but meaningful, armor to shield, boots to hold balance, rawhide to protect from any jarring to his grip. In essence, it was him.

The lord of vampire's pulled out the sword death had helped forged—the same metal, with Draeg's own lord infusing upon it his desire to kill, desire to take life, and poured upon it the blood of a saint, giving it a darkness like no other. For to kill innocence for any sake, is to commit a soul into the shadows of their own conscience.

There was her opponent, Draeg Darkling.

And she was Blair Kryeen, dressed with a red cloak hanging over her form. A loose ivory shirt of simple design with khaki-colored pants loose around her slender legs and held to her waist by a strong cord of crimson-color. Her black boots peered out from under the paler pants, and only two metal bands adorned her form—one on each wrist, going along the forearm from the bendable metal gold, and forged with a fallen star's ashes in the fire of a dying phoenix. In her hand the deadly knouter—a thick-lined whip overlaid with cylinders of sharp metal, the same as in her hands, and protruding with sharper barbed points at times, ending in a spike. The cruel weapon of old torture, used by kings far off in the east. Twenty lashes could kill a man.

Fire and Night.

Shadow and Light.

The age old story, except that no one this time was fighting for what was right. Only for what is.

§

_Blair, Ally... Ally , Blair... none of it made sense. How could she... could Blair really have been the amazing, caring person that Daemon claimed? Yes, some of her qualities did match—both woman were stubborn, powerful, beautiful. But understanding? And his teacher, the professor who had lashed out so many times... the one who fought both sides in this rising war... in love?_

Harry Potter's thoughts jumbled in his sleepless mind. He had been lying in his comfortable four-poster Gryffindor room for over two hours. The students had been dismissed right after Daemon's story had been told... though Harry didn't know what to make it. He trusted the phoenix didn't he? But the red-haired boy was also... well, human. And humans lie, that the scarred celebrity had learned the hard way. The black-haired prodigy turned in his bed, again slipping on his wide-rimmed glasses to see the red, blurred letters of the little alarm clock.

2:32a.m... it was mocking him.

_No sleep tonight._ Potter knew, swinging his legs over the bed, careful not to wake up anyone else. The prophesied child rubbed his sore neck as he withdrew the invisibility cloak from it's safe home in tucked in his drawer. It would be a good night for a little stroll around his true home. The green-eyed teen glanced at his best friend through the famed glasses, smiling as he saw the snoring red-head. It wasn't fair to wake him from his sleep. So Harry Potter slipped the cloak over his head and left the safety of the common room through a very grouchy Fat Lady.

§

Celia Magnatine ran a hand through her silky autumn-brown hair. _Speaking of autumn... it's almost over... winter will be here soon._ The porcelain-faced witch was walking through the halls of the school. Her blue silk cloak wrapped tighter around her frame to bid off the cold. It of course, had been provided for her by her caretaker... Draco Malfoy. The seer's thoughts drifted back to the wizard who had brought her here. 16, coldly handsome, rich, well-connected... he had everything going for him. _Except his father._ Celia shook her had in a small gesture, thinking of the fate of her current owner. _It is a pity that he must follow that man's footsteps so surely. Love the Dark Lord, hate Harry Potter..._

_Harry Potter, _the name echoed within her mind. How Draco hated him, hated him with a passion near obsession. She understood thought. Malfoy—a pureblood, with celestial beauty, Slytherin, seeking attention, in complete love with his parents, proud in every way, pushed to exceed despite his own nature. Potter—a mudblood with his non-magical grandparents, granted an earthy beauty, Gryffindor, hating attention, never knowing his parents, far from confident in his own ability to fulfill his duties, pushing himself to succeed was in his very nature.

_They are the moon and the sun, no wonder they despise each other—they can never understand each other._ Was there a way to bridge the gap between the sun and the moon, a reflection so vastly different that it was almost impossible to see one within the other. Yet, there still was that link—the fact that the moon was a reflection of the sun. Perhaps one day they would reach past their differences for a common goal. _What though? What brings the sun and the moon together?_ Celia looked out the dark window. It wasn't in her nature to break the rules of the girl that sheltered her, and this was her first. She knew is she was caught she would be in trouble. But Magnatine had needed this, needed the peace to simply look out this wide window into the night. As a small breeze swept through the seer's long locks, a sudden thought occurred to her.

_The sky_

§

The death eater meeting was suddenly not about the death eaters. They had all become spectators to the two battling immortals, except that a ring was impossible, the way the two fought so bitterly. More than half had already left, cursing that their night had been ruined so boldly and whispering apologies to their lord. Voldemort watched the duel through cruel crimson eyes, a sadistic smile playing on his lips.

_Two of them..._

The winner would be the stronger, so the Dark Lord felt no need to intervene. That would only help the weaker, and the weak needed to die, to stop their disease from spreading over the world. He was enjoying this quite a bit—this was a true display of wild power. No, these creatures were something more...

§

Baine took the blunt of Draeg's attack head-one, allowing the sword to plow through her left shoulder as she punched him hard in the chin, snapping a bone that would have killed any human. When they came apart, panting and on opposite sides, both were bleeding. Red and blue.

The vampire smiled, his canines making the simple act much more sinister. His vivid, glowing eyes glittered down the length of his sword, where the deep crimson of his opponent's blood decorated the blade.

"I see you still bleed red. How pathetic Aduru. It's been years and you still have a mortal part."

Kryeen grinned maliciously, her eyes screening like a hunter and its prey. She was every part a killer then, brandishing her knouter with blood pattering across her shoulder, unnoticed.

"I have such mortal blood then why not take a bite leech?" She jeered back, pulling her hair to expose her neck. "Oh wait... shall we recall the last time you did that?"

Darkling snarled at the insult, charging again with blade in hand, his speed intensified. "I shall cut that neck off you!"

As he hurtled toward her, Blair twisted her weapon with expert precision. It came alive under her touch, striking like a serpent at the pale figure. She lashed out straight, coming to align with her attacker before twisting her hand so that the faithful knouter swung quickly around the immortal, barbs sinking into the pale skin, drawing his deep, starless blue blood and constricting the vicious onslaught to a stop.

"You seem to end up caught in my whip a lot Draeg. Tell me, does your cold soul desire the embrace of it?

"Stop calling my slave name, Aduru." The Atrum Venator spat, glowering from his bind. "Unless you can no longer speak the sacred language?"

At this, she began to laugh. A cruel, tormenting cackle that rose to the night air. "The sacred language? Since when did demons become saints and hell become heaven? Your simple-mindedness is amusing to no end. But can I still utter the dead language, you ask? Well, then let me answer."

Pulling her knouter toward her, she brought the barbs deeper into his flesh as she cried a phrase no words can capture well, so a poor one will have to do.

_"Burn,"_

Flames wrapped from her hand, crawling up the outstretched weapon and bursting onto her victim.

"Die leech!" The fire immortal smirked.

But from the flames, a dark circle was forming, small and then growing until it combusted into shock waves of pure, inky darkness, extinguishing the fire.

"Is that the best you can do Aduru, hm!" Draeg Darkling was standing there, the whip around him slack as his entire formed blazed black. With a swift hand, and beautiful words, he sent a streak of the shadows at her. It was difficult to see, only a shade darker then the night sky itself. Eposis's golden eyes narrowed and she poised to leap away, only to find herself held.

"What the fuck?" She hissed, seeing the two shades behind her, their ethereal hands gripping her shoulders, long, hungry nails digging into the skin. She could have torn away easily—if only she had realized them a moment sooner. But then the night magic of the immortal opponent had stuck her.

Blair felt it, swallowing her, drowning her to extinguish the flame in her soul, suffocating it away. It would be so easy, so easy to give in. The pain was sharp, constricting. But the one thing Professor Blair Kryeen hated more than anything else was a cage. And it was this cage of darkness that had been sent to her, but even as she was going down the woman once called Ally called up the flames in her heart, called up the torch in her soul and spattered her own determination around as gasoline. She would burn, she would burn it away.

"I will not lay down and die!" She cried, feeling the heedless power wrap around her, her own creation lighting off.

Draeg's smirk faded when out night's clutch, a shot rang, followed by a large shot of fire, burning through it all.

He shielded his sensitive red eyes to the sudden light, a deadly mistake. The next breath the vampire missed was in the air, sent flying by a powerful, flaming kick. And there stood that hated woman, eyes dilated, fire licking against her skin, blood pouring freely along her body.

"I'll rip you to pieces!" The gold-eyed immortal cried, brandishing her knouter once again.

Darkling recognized the possessive, starving look on her face. Nothing mattered to his opponent now except killing him. Nothing would bring her down, she would walk into death itself to have his throat. Now was not the time to fight the Aduru Eposis, she was too mindless to continue this. She would end him. But the vampire lord was no fool. He took refuge from her twisting whiplash by jumping around, then he drew a handful of samurai stars from a pouch on his waist. Sharp, poisoned, and enchanted the Atrum Venator threw them with deadly accuracy. All six, two in her chest, two in each leg. Even then, Blair only slowed. Never once did she halt.

"I have been sent from Death to warn you Aduru Eposis!" Draeg Darkling fulfilled his careful duty. "He will allow you to dawdle with these mortals for a little longer, but do not enter this war! You are his, and will always be—do not try to escape!"

"Shut the hell up! I will not be owned!" The enraged immortal hissed back, swinging her knouter again, ready to slice his body apart.

But the sun was tipping over the sky, and as the first rays hit the results of the battle—a bruised earth overturned and burnt to shreds, and a bleeding woman... alone.

§

Harry had not brought his watch with him, so he had no essence of how long he had been walking, kept up in his own thoughts. _Funny, it was walking that brought me_

_to the Mirror of Erised in my first year, allowed me to discover how the snake was getting into the school in my second year, found Sirius in my third, got me through the maze in my fourth, and also... resulted in the death of my godfather just last year._

The brunette paused, allowing Filtch to meander past him while he held his breath under the safety of his cloak.

"It'll be my first Christmas without him this year." The wizard whispered to himself when he was sure the caretaker was gone. Okay, he hadn't seen him much in his fourth year ...but Sirius had still been there. Shaking his head, the tragic hero walked along again, his thoughts reverting back to his current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Finally, his character popped out and the scarred teen halted firmly.

"That is it! I am going to talk to her right now!" He muttered, spinning on his heel toward to DADA room. _And if she tries to kill you, what then?_ A Hermione-sounding voice asked him naggingly. _I'll think of that if it happens. Hopefully, she'll be in a good mood..._

§

Celia had no idea how long she had stood by the window, contemplating Daemon's words, her funder, the chosen child... But when she saw a faint rim of orange light form a thin line over the horizon in the gray of the morning, she knew she had to get back.

"Have I really spent that long here?" She chided herself with a light smile.

But suddenly a torch next to her sizzled out into darkness, and the seer froze. Her third sense was already tingling her mind, warning her from the coming danger. It took a few moments for the witch to recognize that aura...

"Slytherin's Guardian!"

§

Blair Kryeen slipped through the window of her fourth story window, thankful for the castle's Victorian style with the wide, open cuts for windows. She had no desire to confront either the gigantic gamekeeper or the headmaster this night. She stood on the floor, sensing that Daemon was flying off in the early morning. He would come back for her first class, but it would give her time to get the blood off her. It wasn't that it bothered her really—but it was that he of course, would want to know what happened. That would mean telling him about Draeg...

"Fucking leech!" She hissed between clenched teeth, throwing her robe out of the way.

But if he truly had been sent by death itself...

The immortal teacher shook her head, suddenly pausing. She was sensing something...

"It's that damn serpent again. What is it doing out again?" Kryeen wondered to herself until another aura reacher her keen otherworld senses. "Idiot! What is she doing out?"

§

Harry never made it to the classroom. He was stopped ¾ of the way with the scene of Celia Magnatine sprinting away from a very angry Slytherin guardian, hissing it's toxins.

Before he could even think, the boy had drawn his wand. "Lumios!"

The light flickered brightly, and he was rewarded with an angry hiss from the snake-woman.

The girl stopped running, her pale cheeks flushed as she looked around for the source of her salvation. The hated-loved celebrity did not dare call out to her, but he watched as those blue eyes fixed on him, nodded and smiled, before removing themselves.

"Who daressssss dissssssturb my hunt?" The creature challenged, her pale eyes searched him out in the dark. "I ssssssensssssse human..."

_It's like Mrs. Norse—she can smell me!_ Harry cursed, waiting for the monster to slowly approach, head swaying nakedly. It was coming closer, and then...

"Impedimentum!" The green-eyed wizard cried, sending a streak of red dead at the guardian.

"Celia ru—" He was about to command when he felt her cold, pale hand grasp his and pull.

With a faint blush on his cheeks, the boy-who-lived needed no second warning as the two sped off. Faint checks of conversation went on between the two.

"Why didn't you get it like last time?"

Her face was still calm, a bit grimmer than usual if anything. But she still seemed level-headed, clear as they jolted through the castle as quietly as possible to loose their pursuer. The girl reached in her pocket with her free hand, and pulled out a snapped shaft.

"Slytherin's guardian went for my arm and snapped my wand."

Harry's eyes trailed down the hand she was holding, and saw blood dripping down the palm.

"It got you?" Potter's natural protectiveness coming over.

"We can't worry about that now—I'm alive aren't I?" She replied, piercing his flesh with her deep, lightless blue orbs.

The seeker couldn't argue with that, but he had a quesy feeling, thinking back to how close the Basilisk had come to killing him... that green liquid coming off her teeth was certainly not for health-benefit. But, she was running quite fast now, so it couldn't be that bad.

The two turned a bend and came face to face with a nearly maddened humanoid. Her bare chest gleamed grotesquely in the darkness.

"Filthy children! Thisssss issssss my father'sssss sssssschool! I am hisssss one, hissss only true heir! All otherssssss mussssst die!"

The boy-who-lived didn't wait for her to continue as he yelled his spell. "Impe—"

The sealed beast would not allow for that trick again. Her green coils shifted as she struck with incredible speed, going straight for his neck. It would have surely killed him there, and this story would be rewritten if he had not been holding Celia's hand. And clear-headed Magnatine gave a strong yank, making the Gryffindor stumble backwards and out of harms way.

"Thanks." Harry said, his eyes darkening as he saw her grimace in pain.

_This must end now!_ The girl's life depended on it.

The hero inside of Potter reared its head as he saw the snake woman's extended neck, hanging in the air for a bare moment after her missed attack. One moment... thank the fates for Quidditch reflexes.

"Sectumsempra!" The seeker didn't even think about what he was doing as the spell did its vicious work on the horrible monster's neck.

It hissed in agony, and blood spattered everywhere, burning like acid.

The James-look-a-like gave a small cry through clenched teeth as flecks of it burnt through his skin. He didn't let himself dwell upon it though. Britain's hero glanced around through slitted eyes. The great monster snake lay dead, her neck severed in many places as foul blood burnt through upholstery. He then looked at the Slytherin, she was kneeling, gripping her bleeding hand tightly. Still, as though she had felt his gaze through the long locks of hair Celia looked up.

"Are you alright?"

Harry shrugged with a bitter smile. "I'm not the one poisoned. Come on, let's get you to Madam Pomp—"

"POTTER!" An oily, triumphant, and angry voice called from the hall.

What was it with everyone interrupting him tonight?

Snape stormed down to them, an ominous presense.

_Let me fight the snake again._ Potter thought angrily. He did not have the time to deal with the prickish professor now.

"What is going on? Miss Magnatine—what have you two been doing?" Although his voice was filled with false anger, Snape was gloating.

"Severus what is it..." Thank the fates, it was McGonogall.

Before the potions teacher could reply, the green-eyed teen spoke at a rapid pace.

"Professor it was the guardian, Celia has been poisoned!"

Both eyes lingered on the new girl, not uttering a single word even though her slight form was now shaking, eyes focused.

"And what were you both doing out here? It is far too early in the morning for student's to be running about." The greasy-haired man continued.

"Severus please, Potter help me assist Miss Magnatine up to the Health Wing."

The boy-who-lived bended down so that the seer could loop a hand around his shoulder. They both had the smallest blush.

"I'm sorry." She apologized softly between hard-drawn breaths.

"For what?" The male brunette asked, bewildered.

"She's apologizing for being poisoned, for being a burden." A familiarly spiced voice rang through the halls, her click of boots along the cold tile.

"Blair," Snape snarled like the word would poison him.

"Shut up bat." The DADA professor replied without turning or laughing.

Her gold eyes spread over the sprawled out scene. A faint ring of surprise registered on her face, and her gaze fell upon the two youngest figures. Whatever she had been thinking though, she did not speak it.

"Put her down Harry. She'll die by the time you reach the Hospital Wing and even if you did, there is nothing Poppy can do to help her." Blair's tone was serious.

"And what do you know of such things, professor?" The Gryffindor house leader asked with a certain amount of disdain in her voice. "Poppy is a very good, educated healer..."

Harry had already done as she asked. There was no joke, no jest or taunt in her face as the firecracker of a woman had spoke.

"That may be so, but there is no antidote for the guardian's toxin. It is unique to her."

"Then what do you propose we do, since it was you who let the creature in?" Severus snapped, angry at her last comment.

Blair however, continued ignoring him with a simple, "I told you to shut up bat, perhaps I'll make it clearer for you. Go shove yourself off a cliff."

"Professor!" Minerva voiced her disapproval.

"Celia, your arm." Kryeen was kneeling down.

The pale girl was really shaking now, her hands clenched against the pain and the blue eyes were somehow not nearly as focused.

Wiping the blood off, the immortal studied the twin bite-marks. "Idiot, what the hell were you doing?"

Magnatine gave a small little laugh. "I am sorry."

"It doesn't matter. I'll have to burn though the toxins—it'll hurt I'll tell you now. It's that or die, probably painful too." She quickly assessed the situation.

Harry really wanted to slap her now. Sure she was helping, but almost in the most... unhelpful way. The blue-eyed witch seemed unaffected though as she gave a tiny, pained laugh.

"I think I choose the burning, if you please."

"Fine, then shut up idiot." The Aduru wrapped her slender fingers around the tender bite-mark, making the beautiful teen look away in pain.

"Your hurting her!" Now the underage wizard had to speak up.

"And there's acid burning through your chest, shut up."

Angrily, he relented... she was right.

Kryeen focused her golden eyes on the bite marks, and her pupils dilated ever so slightly. The arm holding the girl suddenly burnt bright orange, shooting the light through her hand, into her fingertips and erupting to color the victim.

The boy-who-lived had no idea how she kept without screaming. But for nearly two minutes, the orange power seemed to literally be entering the Slytherin 6th year, burning out the poison and causing her intense agony. And finally, the light reached it's end and faded out, and the immortal released her.

For nearly a full minute, the witch gathered herself, eyes wide with pain, hair shielding most of her face as ragged breaths beat her chest up and down. Finally, she looked up to the now standing teacher.

"Thank you for saving my life."

_Ally?_ Harry wondered to himself.

All four eyes watched her turn her back and begin walking away. "I still have a use for you, Celia. Do try not to get yourself killed... Oh, and Harry,"

The said person looked up.

"I would like to speak with you privately after-class tomorrow."

§

A/N: Wow! It was hard getting this chapter done within a week! But I did promise it, so... Anyways, please leave me a review for my efforts—I'd love it.

_Next time: Voldemort's book is revealed and Harry begins to find the one called Ally..._


	21. The Man Named Tom Riddle

Author's Note: Okay, a lot of people have been campaigning for a HarryxCelia fic. I've taken all their comments into consideration, re-wrote this chapter a few times with my decision. My final one is this—Harry and Celia will not ever be a couple. While I was never that fond of the Harry x Ginny pairing, Celia is simply not compatible for our hero. I'll elaborate on this point later in the story. There will be minor Harry x Ginny only because I love Ron x Hermione, and Harry can't be lonely forever… again, very small because I don't believe Harry would willingly have a real relationship, as proven in the 6th book. However, with everyone's pleas after this story is finished I will come out with a one-shot that pairs Harry with Celia. I hope that you all continue to read and review. Please, enjoy the story.

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Nymphadora Tonks walked through the many candlelit halls within Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Most from the Order of the Phoenix had already left the famous and infamous building shortly after Remus's recovery. Kingsley, Moody, the Weasleys—straight out the doors they had picked open a few hours ago. The metamorph however had stayed. Her reasons were two. The first and most obvious was that he reluctant lover had nearly been ripped from her and she was unable to leave him yet. Another small sigh passed through Tonk's lips.

_Remus, _She caressed the name in her heart-spoken thoughts. The werewolf had captured her heart only a year ago. _Remus, that baka! He was always going on dangerous missions before he became Harry's tutor. And even after them he goes on another one! He's so very foolish… and selfless, and kind, and gentle… so sad._

The brave young witch shook her head as a small smile curved onto her lips at the thought of the weary-eyed man. _I would give anything to make him smile. Because he may never love me, but I will always love Moony. _

_Always_

_"Always is a very long time…" _A spiced voice intruded upon her thoughts.

It reminded the Auror of her second motive to remain at the school. The reason behind her walking down these halls past the windows revealing a gray outside,_ Blair_.

"I'll thank her for saving Remus." The currently brown-haired woman promised herself.

As she reached her destination, she brought a pale hand up to knock twice on the door.

No answer.

Rapping harder, Nymphadora leaned her presently tall frame against the DADA door.

Silence.

"Professor B—"Tonks yelled, only to have the door swing open.

The klutzy witch stumbled in from the door, knocking over a laden end-table and spilling its many contents on the floor with herself. The violet-eyed figure gave a short laugh from her low-level position.

"Sorry Blair, I'll clean it up."

Obedient to her word, the shifter staggered up with a hand reaching for the items strewn upon the gold-and-red tiles. Her incentive of cleaning them up however, took an abrupt turn.

_Wait._ The woman's thoughts commanded her. Violet eyes began to snatch up what exactly had been sent to the ground. There were a small number of shuriken, their star-edged tips dipped in crimson. White gauze was twisted free in all corners, and two red-washed rags had been thrown into the disorder. Along with that was a spilled basin. Its amber contents gave off the musky smell of alcohol. Nymphadora Tonks may be the most uncoordinated person alive, but she was not an idiot. Hardly a minute passed by before the black-cloaked person was up again, alarm bells barking loudly in her head as purple eyes scanned the room.

"BLAIR!"

§

A candle flickered out in the richly decorated, ancient room of mystery. Its single occupant glared his red eyes at the dying bulb of wax and flicked his wand. The wick snapped, its crumbling body gracing the cold carpet. The man uttered a curse, and drew his faithful wand away from the table again. This time a beacon of light washed into the darkened study from the magical stick. It illuminated his starch, flat face, and gaunt, robed body. Long-fingered hands traced spidery words across the thick tome they imprisoned, caught in the web of the scarlet glare. Inside the vile mind of the man, an unbidden image of a beautiful, blood-dampened immortal berated his thoughts as she forced herself back to the castle of his most hated rivals. Voldemort gave a hiss in displeasure.

_What has the wench done to me? Why does that insignificant woman continue to haunt my thoughts?_

He hated it. The former Riddle could not bare the thought of the red-blonde witch having any kind of power over him. **He **was the Dark Lord. **He **held the power. Not this strange _Aduru. _The serpent-like wizard thought back to the night the two had first met. She strode boldly in without a care in the world, easily taking out any of his faithful servant that barred her path. After a short struggle then between the two, the new Hogwarts professor had overpowered him in front of his followers. She then hurled salt into his wounds by being annoyed that Voldemort had even been any sort of challenge to her, and giving a warning of her return at some iritic time that suited her mood. And she had done just that. But the immortal had also gone on raids with the dark army. She had assisted in conquering a few villages near Southampton. A game—that was what this war was to her. And he had hated her for it.

Yet slowly, her unpredictability, her freedom, power, her lust for blood; they had wane on Voldemort, who was once just a boy. A boy named Tom Riddle. And he found himself accepting, enjoying her presence.

Those golden eyes that haunted him…

The Dark Lord clenched hands and hissed angrily.

_I'll use this magic, this book, without her. I don't need her and I'll release my force with the power I have found. Then I shall tame her, I shall rule her._

… he would close them. Forever.

§

The cerulean blue of Hogwart's own lake rippled, faint movements of life breaking the perpetual sheen of the water. A creature walked gracefully from the waves. The slender legs seemingly molded from water itself. The smooth, rubbery skin faded its hue slightly from the gray morning mist rolling in. But eyes of unsettling aquamarine contrasted in its flecks between the pallor of periwinkle and the depth of darkened evergreen. Its split tale became rigid as the life turned its oval head southward, tips of fangs showing from its lipless mouth.

The Chatdemer.

Mysterious creature of the lake turned its timeless, knowing gaze to the large hulk of spiraling stone before it. This chatdemer was old, old enough to understand the signs. Other creatures felt them instinctively. But their young ignorance could not process the strangeness—a rush in life, settlings of the wind, hurry of the sun, fear in the mist.

The immortals of Death were walking again. The Death-Dealers had returned. And their ancient, timeless magic was soon to be aroused.

The world was at one of those points. A climax of centuries and cultures resulted to a finally forked road. Those currently inhabiting this realm would soon decide the fate of all life itself. Society had turned to this choice, and the chatdemer knew. She knew of the blood of sacrifice that would be required, of the sound of broken hearts and waking furies. The turning of the age was upon them. And the chatdemer knew.

It may take a path to the destruction of life.

§

_"Death wants nothing more than itself…"_

The flames, they were mocking her in their dance of blood-red bottoms twisting into thinner prongs of white-gold. The smell of wood burning was a foul stench in the heat-blasted air that rung her nose. The charcoal gray haze of smoke stifled the cried in her throat, choking her as tears fell down a pale cheek.

_"…Itself in total completion."_

She had to keep moving, she had to find him. The fire—how dare it attempt to prevent her. It may burn away her flesh, but she would reach him.

_"Death wants to destroy life…"_

Between the scents of fired-up wood, the spilled contents of a meal, and oxygen-burning smoke; a horribly sweet smell reached her delicate senses. It froze her tightly despite the heat around her form. Blood.

_"…It searched for an eternal death."_

The pale, burnt legs were running through the gates of fire now. She followed he scent of blood. Human blood, his blood—it was so sweet, so dear to her. And it was being left to mingle in the flames and on the floor. He was being left. No.

_"Death is using you to achieve its goal…"_

Her black hair swung around, crisp and smelling from heat-exposure. The dark, subtle amber eyes fell through the room, lingering on a lonely, prone figure at the back. He was propped against a fire-caught wall, soaked in his life-giving liquids. Her heart stopped as he slowly turned his beautiful, marred face to her; transfixing her in a gaze of pale green lined with yellow and dotted with brown. He parted his cracked, bleeding lips to utter one word.

"Ally?"

_"…Are you going to let death use you Blair…"_

The beautiful, frail-spirited woman held her halting breath for only a moment before running over the few feet between man and woman. She bent down on her knees, panting tears as useless words rolled off her tongue.

_"…Are you going to be Death's slave?"_

And then the flames came. They licked greedily with scorched mouths until only burnt remains—a case of anger and revenge, an immortal.

_"You are mine child. I named you, my Aduru Eposis and you will return. It is I who sheltered you from the pain, I who gave you life anew. Just remember all that happened before…"_

§

Hermione Granger glanced back over to her best friend. He was sitting in the soft red of the Common Room chairs. His normally buckwheat-colored skin was paler despite the continuous Quidditch practices he attended. His tall build was usually filled with lean muscle, and was now limply thin. The unruly dark hair had flopped wearily across his forehead. Resting above tired emerald eyes was the scar that had caused all the boy's suffering.

"Harry, when was the last time you slept?" The curly-haired girl chided gently.

The slightly re-kindled fire crackled out and left them with the light of dying embers. The trio of friends was in the common room, too early in the morning for others to rise yet. Harry had tried to sneak back into his dormitories. However, Ron had discovered his absence in getting a cup of tea, had gotten Hermione up with some magic, and they were debating whether to fetch him or alert a professor when the teen in question had shown up. So, in consequence the troublesome male had divulged the tale involving the Salazar's dear guardian's demise, Celia's salvation, and Blair's words. Currently, the golden three were sitting in the silence, knowing their time of peace was coming to an end soon. Fellow Gryffindor's would be rousing for school.

"Yeah mate, when did you last eat? You look horrible." Ron added with his usual bluntness.

Hermione turned to glare at other friend, but the words left her mouth as she saw his form. Ronald Weasley had grown taller, and filled out slightly due to Angelina's harsh training. His orange hair had gotten longer and now lay straight. A few strands always fell into warm chestnut eyes. The few remaining freckles couldn't be seen in the half-light as shadows played across his straight nose and strong brow.

"I dunnow." The boy-who-lived muttered incomprehensibly from his seat.

Blushing from her own stare, the clever witch felt her maternal switch click on.

"Ron's right Harry. You need to take better care of yourself. No more late-night strolls."

The exhausted teen muttered, "Whatever,"

"You better listen to her this time Harry. We have our match with Slytherin tonight." The youngest male Weasley commented.

Noise from the upstairs alerted them that their time was now over. Then however, the dead dire reared into life, spurting flames reaching out of the crate. The three 6th years jumped away in shock until the fire faded back down to its normal lively dance. In full light, the bookish witch reprimanded the last speaker.

"Quidditch—Ron is that stupid game all you can really focus on?"

"It's not a stupid game!" He retorted quickly.

Harry gave a low sigh. He had no energy left to deal with his two arguing friends. Without a word, he left the quarreling couple so he could change into newer clothes and gather his school supplies for the day.

_You'd think the two would finally shut up and hook up._

§

Voldemort looked testily at the candle which had seconds ago, burst into a vicious flare before settling into a calm flicker. The Dark Lord had already finished his translation of the book of the dead. He would unleash its power in a fortnight's time. That would be done—it was no longer of much concern to him. No the death eaters' one master was more concerned with the sudden fire burst. It had reminded him again.

_Blair._

§

When those we view above us—those we see as powerful, untouchable—our heroes, fall; we become frightened. We look at our own mortality, see our own weakness. It's a fact observant know. It has been vied along the years:

Hector's defeat in the Trojan War,

Jesus' crucifixion,

General Washington's death,

Gandhi's assassination.

Our eyes build people up until they are invincible. They stand for hope, a light for all humans destined to die. A light that would not waver, cannot fail. And to see them fall, to loose, it scares us shitless.

That was what Nymphadora Tonks was feeling at this moment. Her purple eyes locked on the prone body before her.

Professor Kryeen was poised against the wall. Her head lay limply at an angle, the flaming locks of hair obscuring her face. One leg was pulled under her slender form, the other stretched casually out. Her shirt had been discarded, leaving her exposed from chest to neck. Her ribs and midriff were bound in a tight wrap of white bandage. Dirtied red seeped through the white, staining it.

The infamous Defense Against the Dark Art's Professor was dangerous and disliked. Hell, Tonks had been sent on a mission to dispatch of the woman. But she had still seemed—untouchable, untamed in her mind. And after, the witch had saved Lupin, well the shifter had unconsciously accepted Kryeen as a reluctant heroine. And now…

"Blair," The klutzy woman bent down, unsure of what to do next.

Unseen to the metamorph, a blue-eyed phoenix swept gracefully into the room.

Biting her lip, the Auror stretched her hand out to the figure's shoulder.

"Stop!" A beautiful voice sung.

The phoenix shot down in an instant, dropping like a bomb between the two females. The one still in homeostasis jumped back, the corner of her strange eyes catching a flash of silver and red before she hit the floor. The next scene folded out easily. The large bird was hovering beside her. The golden eyes of the immortal were open, a silver-bladed dagger being withdrawn from where she had obviously attempted to stab at the concerned woman.

"What—why did you do that?" Tonks felt her anger returning.

Come to help the professor and almost end up dead. Great.

Aduru brought her back, gathering a red cloak over her bared torso.

"It's an instantaneous reaction I've been trained to have. You are an idiot for coming near me while I was out."

Her suddenly red eyes trailed up to Daemon's perched figure, thanking him for undoubtedly saving her.

"So what happened?" She was of course referring to the bandages and blooded stars.

Kryeen had already risen to her feet, an annoyed expression on her face.

"None of your business. Get out."

The powerful witch took this as an invitation to continue life in general and scooped herself off, out towards the door. Only two long-forgotten words passed through her lips as she walked under the arches.

"Thank you."

§

The magnificent Chosen One, hope of the wizarding world was currently clumped against a long table, massaging his sore temples.

_Snape! Why did I have to get Snape this morning?_

"Hey Hermione, Harry what's wrong?" A familiar, playful voice carried a presence next to him.

"Hello to you too Ginny!" Her brother snapped.

The Weasley daughter shot him a slight glare.

"Just tired, how are you?" The boy-who-lived managed to say between a yawn.

_Great, I can't even carry a decent conversation. At least I'm too tired to be nervous._

"I can see," The pretty red-head flashed a smile at him. "I'm good, though we do have our game against Slytherin tonight."

Inwardly, Harry groaned. He must have shown something on his face, because the youngest Weasley tapped his shoulder lightly.

"Come on, we can't beat our rivals without our best player on the team."

"Why, what is wrong with Angelina?" The black-haired boy managed a smaller smile.

Ginny laughed lightly, her whole face lighting up beautifully.

"Oh come on, you're the best seeker we have! Dr. Weasley orders you to eat and get some rest before tonight's game!"

The wintergreen-eyed wizard found himself laughing. How did she always manage to brighten even his foulest moods?

"Yeah, thanks I'll try that Dr. Weasley."

Another voice called from across the table and she left with a small wink. Harry looked at the retreating back of the girl he would never allow himself to have. And he felt a deep pang of loss shoot through him. No one ever said sacrifice was easy.

"I've got to go meet with Professor Blair," He muttered to his best friends before taking a grateful leave.

§

The number one person on Death Eater's hit list was falling asleep on his feet. In a daze, the Gryffindor 6th year allowed his feet to carry him along the familiar route to the DADA classroom. This kept up until he ran straight into something. The skilled Quidditch player rocked on the balls of his feet, but managed to keep his balance upright. Jade orbs flickered up to see the obstacle.

_You have got to be kidding me._

Standing before him was Draco Malfoy, right from the sneering lips to the looming forms of Crabbe and Goyle.

"What's wrong Potter? Tired? I suppose it would be a bit scary, trying to sleep while knowing that there's a chance you'll wake up dead in the morning."

On cue, his muscled sheep gaffed as though that was the funniest thing they had ever heard.

"It's a bit hard to be afraid of your father and his friends when they are off hiding somewhere. But perhaps the idea that your daddy can't pay off your classes anymore is what's scaring you Malfoy." Somehow Harry had the energy to come up with a retort.

The silver-eyed boy's face contoured at the insult, but before he could rebuke the small pattering of light feet bounced off the tiled toward the hostile group.

Celia Magnatine was approaching her cautious blue eyes assessing the situation. Draco turned to his rival with a grin and signaled the brunette to approach. When her face was to expressionless, she could have been a stature—coldly beautiful.

The blonde Slytherin wrapped one hand possessively around her slender waist as the seer just stood in silence. The words the proud pure-blood spoke next were reminiscent of Uncle Vernon's bragging of a car.

"This is my girlfriend, Celia. Funny Potter, where's your girlfriend the mudblood or having you taken to help the poor and hooked up with that Weasley brat?"

As the pale boy laughed, his words snapped the last threads of patience inside the exhausted scar-face. In one breath, the heartthrob drew his wand.

"Stupefy,"

The teen celebrity paralyzed his hated classmate, aiming quickly at both Crabbe and Goyle before their amazingly small minds could conjure up a reaction. In the matter of a minute, only the female Slytherin was left on her feet. Harry panted as he put his wand back.

What had made him break like that? Was it simple fatigue of the fact that a slime ball like Malfoy had something the boy would never allow himself to possess? It was most likely the bringing up of a certain daughter that made him jinx them all.

"Harry," Professor Blair Kryeen walked out from her room, golden eyes sweeping over the situation,

"Celia take these three to Poppy and tell her that young Draco here was disrespectful in my class and I punished him with a curse, Also, tell him that if he says anything to contradict this story I really will punish him."

The doll-like girl nodded and muttered a spell to allow the three bodies to levitate behind her, suspended by some invisible chain to follow her retreating form down and around the bend.

"Why did you cover for me like that?" The remaining student asked as he attempted to hide the drowsiness from his voice.

The intensity of the classroom was beginning to wake him.

The teacher shrugged casually. "It was a believable story. Besides, I don't want anyone coming after you while we talk."

There was curtness in her spiked voice that deterred the boy from asking to many questions. When she plunked herself into a seat, Harry followed suit. He was given no chair nor offered refreshments, but expecting polite gestures from this woman was like wanting hell to turn into a pink field of rainbows and smiles. Not happening.

But on the other hand, the Eposis had made a questionably decent act just then.

"Harry in our previous duel you should know I entered your mind."

The black-haired wizard almost winced at the memory, annoyed at his professor's bluntness. Blair's golden eyes were fixed on him, the stunning flamed licking around the dark corners as she cocked her head in her own trademark poise.

"Boy what do you want from me?"

Potter blinked smartly. "Err—what?"

The immortal made an irritated humph and stood up, striding over to her large window. After a pause, a bare twist of her neck allowed her to partially face him, a few blonde streaks obscuring her face.

"I need something from you Harry. Something I cannot force out. So, I am willing to give something in return. What is it you want of me?" She was not happy by the force of these words. It had gone deadly soft.

A nagging wariness taking on Hermione's voice picked at the famous boy-who-lived.

"What is it you want from me?"

Kryeen swiveled fully around, her face flashing a moment before she spit the words out.

"I want your story—the memories of your life in completion with only truths."

The younger of the two processed her words before saying, "Couldn't you just invade my mind again?"

Ignoring his slightly bitter note, Aduru shook her head. "Your thoughts are too jumbled. I can't gather any real information behind them."

Slightly disturbed that his DADA professor had been willing to force entry into his mind, the reluctant celebrity thought over her proposition thoughtfully. It seemed innocent enough, but the little Hermione voice in his head was screaming atrociously loud. But considering he rarely listened to the talented witch in person…

"Alright, in exchange I want—?" What did he want?

The first idea that propped into the scarred wizard's mind was training. Professor Blair was an exceptionally powerful witch, and with his quest to defeat Voldemort he needed the best teacher he could get. But then thoughts of another time, of a story that would not leave him alone, interrupted his mind. The life of Ally, Daemon, and Blayne, it called to him. In the end, his natural curiosity set the wheels of fate into turn once again.

"—Your story. I want to know about Blayne and what happened to you all."

The firecracker went rigid, halting time in her wake. Everything was baiting for her answer.

"Very well."

Acknowledging her get-the-fuck-out tone, the male stood and made his way out. Half-way there, he turned and dared to push her a little farther.

"Why?"

"Why what?" The Death-Dealer replied hotly.

"Why do you want to know my life?" Scar-face would not back down.

Eying him, Kryeen pulled a single sheet of water color paper from one of her large robe pockets.

"Because of these eyes."

Intrigued, Harry leaned over to see the painting.

It was an incredible feat of art. The pair of eyes was done in watercolor paint and black and white charcoal for shading. The basic shape of the eye was wide and slightly curving almond-shaped. The lids were small and smooth, leaving the eye exposed in an almost pleasant expression. A thin line of pink ran under the white orb, showing the strip of skin. Thick, dark brown lashes lined across the top in charcoal and ran straightly along the bottom. The ball was a bright white, no red veins in sight. The iris was a startling emerald, allowing for two pinpricks of white charcoal for the imaginary light to hit off the blending shade of gemstone-colored orbs. The black pupils were partially hidden, showing no surprise behind their lid. Those eyes, they were his eyes. But the shape, and the thick lashes, they were feminine.

His mother's eyes.

§

A/N: This was a longer, but fun chapter to right. I'm going in a road trip for about 3 weeks, so I don't know when I'll be able to update… It'll be ASAP though—promise! Hope everyone's summer is going great!

_Next Chapter: Harry and Celia talk… his appointments with Blair begin and Voldemort begins to gather the last remaining items to unleash the power from the Dead Book…_


	22. Conclusion to Part l: Remembering Them

Author's Note: The plot has been flowing smoothly so I think it is time for a little interlude... oh, and can anyone name me the person behind this pov or any special symbolism?

§

He sighed a small, bare breath, inclining his head slightly to his beautiful wife beside him. She was sleeping soundly, her chest rising and falling with even breaths under the soft silk of sheets. It was too warm out, even at this time between morning an night of stretching darkness. Their rich blankets were packed away for winter days, not the bare beginnings of June. He should be sleeping as soundly as the feminine form beside him—the war ended ten years ago and his life was a dream. But today, when the sun spread out over their home he would see them again and remember...

Part of him never forgot, but the pain and loss was dull an left when he looked at his smiling son or playful daughter and winking wife... he loved them all. His friends, for the most part, had survived the war and they would be coming tomorrow as an anniversary—the end of the war. It should be a day of worldwide celebrating, drunken wizards, slap-happy witches. His wife had once said that he of all people deserved to be celebrating on that day. But every year, for the last ten it was different for their small group.

They would meet tomorrow, and picnic and let the children run by the glistening aspens as the sun turned their pale stalks into haunting phantoms in silent grace. They would talk, catching up as old friends did and enjoy themselves in the heat of the day, feeling the cool of the breeze and he would smell the flower beside him, the sweet taste of food laid out before them, and the strength of Rosmerta's Oak-Matured Mead. But always, they would catch up the each other and the day would remind them. Despite all its beauty, despite the joy in their life, despite the freedom they had won... there had been a cost. And they remembered faces that should be here, that deserved it. And always, it ended with three of them heading back into town to join in the celebration and three of them staying, watching the kids as they spoke reminiscent of the one face that should be here above all.

He didn't mind the talk so much—it took weight off his mind and helped him enjoy the day a bit more. But it always concluded at night and left him with this feeling of continuation. As if death could not be the end of it, something had not stepped forward. And until he managed to climb over his last ivory stair, there would be no moving on—not really, for him.

And so tonight he was up, unable to sleep as he groped for his wand and stumbled out of his room, shutting the door for his sleeping love and casting the spell Lumos in silence. He pattered down the hallway past three bedrooms and three very different doors all made from the same aspen wood. One was painted as part of the mural that covered his daughter's bedroom.

Grass a familiar bright emerald angled up at the bottom in long fronds, getting less detailed as it moved up the door and distanced in the painting, forming rolling hills A clear periwinkle-shaded sky met the looping horizon, traces of yellow the only tell-a-tale signs of the unseen sun. And arching at the top of the door, a great red bird of fantasies was captivated, a long wing stretching across the frame and twisting tail feathers danging down the entire length. The deep crimson on the creature was engulfed in orange flame, tints used to show movement as a single eye could be seen from its crown. A spell allowed the bird to fly around its door from time to time, it made the sky behind it swirl and the grass blow gently as though in a breeze. But always only one eye ever showed. It was blue, of course only to match the background...

He stood for a moment, gazing at the lone phoenix on her door and thinking back to another wall and another phoenix painting... how long ago that had been, and yet it had hardly faded in his mind's inner-most eye. Shaking his head the father carried himself the few feet to his son's entryway.

The entire wood had been dyed navy blue and magical stars glittered around it, writing its occupant's name in different styles.

The name... it had been their dying wish. People he hardly knew but, a friend of a friend in those dark times...

The man had used shaking so now he tried blinking his sorrowful thoughts away and only glanced at the third door, unwritten and unblemished.

_Could they, would they all have lived here?_

Somehow he thought that even if death had not intervened, that room would have remained empty. _Some people..._

Turning left the lone waker made his way through the kitchen and quietly slid open the glass door onto the balcony. The architecture was colonial—white, pillared, rimmed. But he didn't care—that had been her thing really. An old-time balcony for a new-time love, such irony. The summer air was chilled by the lack of sun for sever hours now and bit gently into his bare chest and through his light cotton shorts. A dwindling moon shone among a dust-filled sky. Stars winked at him and the long green fields and smaller stone houses glistened in the night light. A few rebellious teens could be heard scurrying around, but other than that it was silent.

The specter took a deep breath of the cool air and felt his tense muscles unclench a little. His mind went numb after a while and eyes shut after staring at the heaven's...

And he remembered.

§


	23. Through a Seer's Eyes

§

Draeg Darkling eyed the sun with such contempt it should fall from the sky for fear. The vampire could walk under its rays, being a Death Dealer gave him that ability. But by now the toxin in his shuriken would have been burnt away by her immortal immunity. Besides that in daylight she had the advantage. The dark immortal had attacked her while his element was strong—night, and she had managed to overcome him. Even if the Aduru Eposis had lost control, she could still have killed him.

The pale-faced creature uttered a curse under his breath. He had given to much of this life to have it taken away.

"Little Aduru I will see you again." Draeg hissed between his strangely long teeth.

Only the wind kept his company, stirring as before the coming of a storm.

§

Ron and Hermione had classes one slot more than him the winter semester. While the bushy-haired girl was in Arithmancy, the hazel-eyed boy was taking muggle studies, more or less to make his father happy after Percy. So Harry found himself, in the first day winter, talking to Ginny Weasley.

She had found him doing work alone in the common room and since they were both free, suggested Quidditch practice. So two broomsticks and a clear pitch later, they were flying with Snitch in tow. The Weasley daughter had become a chaser after Harry had resumed his position, but that didn't mean she wasn't still a good Seeker. They played a game—release the tiny, winged ball and fly up to the top with their eyes closed so that neither knew where the other was. Then, on the count of five they both soared around for it. Playful bumps, lunges, and faints added to the abstract of the game.

"1...2...3..." Ginny began counting again, her pale face flushed slightly, flaming hair slightly twisted together by the wind.

For a moment, Harry was more focused on the figure in front of him then catching the Snitch. Repressed thoughts had begun to surface. Her smile, her laugh... and she had to be such a damn good player to... He had long ago pushed all romantic ideas from his mind—he had vowed to stop Voldemort, and had two scars now to prove it. But he couldn't bury a single notion that kept appearing as he watched her beautiful face.

_Ginny Weasley looks... sexy._

In fact, the-boy-who-lived was so busy mentally berating himself for thinking that about his best mate's sister that his competitor had already captured the Snitch.

The fifth-year laughed with a wink. "That makes 2 to 5, in your favor... Harry are you listening?"

Shaking himself the elder gave what he hoped was a relaxed smile. "Sorry, daydreaming have another go?"

"Couldn't stop me!" The female red-head grinned and gave her tortured friend a playful punch in the shoulder

And so the game commenced, each one diving, rolling,catching, flying. It was the best time Harry had all week. It drove all thoughts and notion of responsibility—of his deal with Blair, his lessons with Lupin, of even Voldemort. Right there was only the familiar emerald of the swaying grass below them, fading with patches of brown from the season's change, the clear white-blue sky that reflected cold coming and a sunless day, but no immediate repercussion, and the charming teen beside him. And that was the danger in Ginny, he realized suddenly on that day after releasing the Snitch again.

_When I am with her I forget about everything I have to do... She's like a dream from a life I could have had without Voldemort..._

But as he lunged, grasping the golden orb in his hands once again a sobering understanding came to him. Green eyes had fallen on the tracing mark on his arm, the vow he had took, what he was.

_But dreams, they can never be real._

The Chosen One would have been quite depressed the rest of the time if Ron's sister was not so good at putting smiles on people's faces, and keeping them there. As they played she went into renditions—pretending to be Snape in a quite amusing way. Her current performance went along like such:

"Potter, what are you doing?"

Between laughs that almost made him fall from the broom, the seeker would manage to reply in these little charades.

"Your potion, professor."

"No... you gave me a funny look—what did you mean by that look?"

"I was watching you teach, sir."

"No you were plotting to sneak in here during the middle of the night and steal some bizarre herb that you have no use for from my personal stash! How dare you think that—detentions for the rest of your life!"

Not only was the chaser's exaggerations of the hated potion's professor funny, her warm, charming tone voicing Severus's thoughts was like a chicken pretending to be a fox.

Their game ended when the Hufflepuff team entered the Quidditch Pitch. Clearing off, the two friend's parted ways. Both left with a smile on, both left wanting more.

§

The rest of the day went by fairly quickly until their last class of the day—Herbology, was interrupted by a short, Ravenclaw girl who gave a message to Harry.

"Who is it from?" Hermione asked from behind a Snapping Lily, from which they were removing seeds.

Unfurling the tightly wrapped parchment, Harry whispered the note aloud for them.

_Harry,_

_I should like to see you in my office tonight at 5 o'clock for a quick chat. Oh and bring some Licorice Wands with you. _

_Best Greetings, Dumbledore_

"What could Dumbledore want with you?" Ron asked, prying his wand away from the large mouth of the growling yellow flower.

His receiver shrugged. "I don't know, has to be more then a simple hello though."

The clever witch froze the plant then turned around to her to friends, her voice cautious.

"Harry do you remember what the headmaster said, warning us about Blair?"

They both shot her a blank look which made the muggle-born sigh and elaborate.

_"Never give her your full trust—ever_. Ring a bell?"

"Yeah but... I mean Kryeen never actually tried to kill one of us..."

"I don't know, that 'test' she gave Harry was pretty serious." Hermione said darkly.

"Yes, but she also saved Lupin, and Celia—Dumbledore must trust her now..." But even as the raven-haired wizard spoke this, doubt crept in.

"Still, she hurt you and who knows what Kryeen would have done if the Order hadn't stopped her."

"Blair was only looking through my memories, we've been through this Hermione." The green-eyed teen defended his DADA teacher while reminding his friend's of what had gone on. Naturally, he had told them everything the woman had said.

"But that's it isn't it Harry?" She stared at him with wide cocoa eyes. "Dumbledore probably wants to talk to you about your 'lessons' with Professor Kryeen."

Voldemort's younger rival ran a hand through his hair nervously, suddenly looking quite like someone else..

"You... You don't think he's angry or anything do you?"

The indecisive looks on both their faces was enough of an answer.

§

Winter's pale light of silver-white shone deep throughout the sky. The scarce grass was a faded jade, only a few patches surviving the cold chill that had gripped the land. A great oak beside the lake now lay naked of its leaves, powerful boughs reaching in dark intertwines. The surface of the water was surprisingly undisturbed, its occupants in hibernation or away. The deep onyx had a faint cerulean sheen, easily outclassed by the blue eyes of the girl sitting beside it, leaning against the trunk of a tree. Faint laughter rolled with the fingering breeze, toying with the witch's long, cocoa-brown locks of hair. It held her faint scent—calming lavender mixed in with the earth it easily brushed up and the water it pattered across. The figure snuggled her long robe of deep navy satin a little closer, but kept her eyes closed in content for the peace of Hogwarts.

"Is something bothering you Celia, you have been strangely sad these last hours." A voice spoke in smooth, seductive, haunting melody.

The Slytherin turned to her companion, smiling at his transparent form.

"It's Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy... Draco took me in and without him I would still be on the streets. I owe him my life, but Harry is a good friend. He helped me fight off Salizar's guardian when I might not have been able to. But it seems I can never befriend both for their loathing is so strong for each other... It does sadden me a little, Daemon, to see such disgust and to be in the middle of it."

The teenage phoenix looked away from his friend, ice-colored eyes portraying thoughtfulness as he put one hand under his sharp chin.

Magnatine observed the boy for a moment. When she and Daemon had first began to hang out, the seer had been more than a little surprised. It was not the idea of befriending a human locked inside a bird's body, but actually_ seeing_ the effects of it. Though the breeze swished the brunette's hair around, his long red strands remained untouched. And while the crimson-haired male remained in a sitting position beside her, his faded form never actually touched the ground. One time the beautiful witch recalled vividly was when they had talked in the rain, and the drops went straight through his just defined form. But at other times, when it seemed the light was captured in his arctic orbs and glistened off his straight hair, it was easy to forget.

_Sometimes I wish I could always forget..._

The technical muggle brought his friend from her thoughts with his astounding voice, ever reminiscent of the creature whose form he took.

"I think that all people fight, Celia. Opposition is a part of our nature—it compels us to do better, allows us to see fault in others. Fighting is a factor that allows us to amended ourselves."

She blinked with curiosity and mild astonishment.

"How so?"

Daemon paused, fixating the owned teen with an understanding, connecting stare.

"If I asked you to chop down that tree do you think you could do it?"

"No..."

"Ah, but if I covered your eyes and asked you to swing an ax blindly and keep going because it was important, do you think you could do it?"

"I suppose so..."

"And if you met resistance from the ax, would you not simply pull it back and swing again, because it was what you know you could do?"

"Swing an ax, I probably would keep trying."

A gentle smirk had appeared on the teacher's lips.

"And you'd keep doing that until suddenly, you've chopped down the tree."

The reserved person waited patiently for elaboration.

"You never realized what you could do, until you met with resistance on an act you knew you could do. You fought with the tree in essence, and in doing so you overcame boundaries deemed impossible simply because you attacked opposition."

The cryptic words made clear sense to the clever sixth-year and she gave an appreciative smile before speaking in her soft tones.

"Our hour is almost up, so I will say goodbye to you for now."

A slight shadow crossed scrunched his face, but Daemon bowed to her. "Until we talk again, take care." His human form shrunk and became more saturated, heavier and smaller until with a shock of red feathers, he flew up into the castle windows.

The cold bit into Celia once more, but she was not quite ready to re-enter the castle.

_Overcome boundaries deemed impossible... I may have to try that some day._

§

Harry strode up through the many winding, twisting, and even vanishing stairs of his true home. He made his way up to the silent stone gargoyles only to find another large presence there.

"Hi Hagrid," With all the sudden stress, the teen realized he had not had time to visit his friend.

The burly man turned to the pupil in surprise. " O, hello Harry. Wha'd you doing here?"

"Dumbledore asked to see me." The seeker hoped the Care of Magical Teacher would not press the matter so quickly added, "Why are you here?"

The half-giant gave him a quizzical stare. "Ya see, the creatures aroun' here have bee' acting kinda funny. And the chatdemer had vanished from the lake. Somethin' stirred them up. But if Dumbledore be wanting to see ya, I'll come back later."

With that his friend lumbered off, leaving a slightly apprehensive Potter to say 'licorice wands' to gain access.

The gargoyles hoped aside eagerly and the sixteen-year old wizard knocked on his Headmaster's door.

"Come in please,"

With a slightly hesitant entrance, Harry slid into the familiar circular room, tinkering with silver instruments and buzzing with snoring portraits. The famous wizard sat behind his wide desk, blue eyes twinkling and an easy smile greeting him.

"Ah, Harry have a seat." The silver-bearded man gestured to a comfy arm chair and pulled up a dish of sweets, which the boy declined politely. Despite his own reassurances, the Chosen One was still nervous and decided that sugar on an acrobatic stomach was an ill-thought out idea.

Hands folded, the Headmaster surveyed him over his spectacles. "Do you know why I called you here?"

Rubbing his hair anxiously again, the DADA prodigy replied. "Er... I have an idea."

"Well then, let us put our imaginations at rest. I am here because you are taking some form of private lessons from Professor Kryeen."

His tone had been soft, but detached and the wizard's stomach did another stance. There was a moment when Dumbledore simply observed his favored student before talking again.

"Do you remember Harry, after Mr. Longbottom's incident, what I said to you pertaining to your current Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?"

A sinking, guilty rock plopped down the earth-toned child. "Never... never to trust her."

But Albus was giving him a proud smile. "I of course, have often been told that my greatest weakness is my unwavering trust in people. Personally I find it much more useful then spell casting, but nonetheless I am naturally inclined to see the best in people. You have probably noticed this on the subject of Professor Snape."

"Blair and Snape are totally—" The emerald-eyed wonder's word fell as his teacher held up a hand for silence.

"That debate is for another time Harry. I suppose what I am trying to say is that, did you not find it odd that _I_ told you not to trust Professor Kryeen?"

To tell the truth, he had not though of that. Biting his lip, Potter tried, "Er—"

"You see Harry I am exceptionally glad that you have taken the time to trust Professor Kryeen because I trust her as well. The warning I gave you that day, she asked me to say to you."

§

After his conversation with Dumbledore, a certain Gryffindor had a thousand questions to ask his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Unfortunately, they would all have to wait until after dinner. After being unable to complete one sentence on his charms essay, the boy decided to walk around the lake. This served to cool him off and allow some time away for private thoughts, which kept blurring in his head.

_Why would she... Why would someone not want people to... Of all the stupidest..._

In fact, Harry was so preoccupied in his thoughts that he did not notice where he was going until his steps led him right into something solid. With a small grunt, the boy-who-lived fell over, next to him Celia Magnatine.

"Sorry," The seeker said quickly, helping the girl back to her feet.

Those knowing all-blue eyes checked his figure over. "Is something bothering you?"

_No, I normally run into people. _But the male was used to her unassuming quality, even when she seemed to**know.**

"Just got a lot on my mind right now." The sixteen-year old muttered, trying to clear his thoughts for a decent conversation.

The doll-like figure gave him a gentle smile. "Would you like to talk about it?"

_No._ The first words to his tongue, but when the reluctant celebrity thought about it... Blair had given Celia that medallion one time, and the beautiful Slytherin had a nag for total understanding of... anyone it seemed. "Yeah, okay."

And so he told her... well, everything. The seer was an easy person to talk to, her face showing no more then understanding and at ease, eyes glittering for continuation. And the Quidditch player needed someone to vent to—about how he hated not being able to have a relationship(no names included), about his lessons with Lupin, and new ones with Blair, about how hated Draco Malfoy, and even how Snape and Blair were such different people. It seemed he talked forever, and she kept quiet, listening and smiling. But he knew she understood.

"No wonder you walked into me—that was quite a lot." The brunette finally said after her friend was finished the rant.

The Gryffindor rubbed his hair awkwardly. "Sorry, I did go a bit overboard."

Celia shook her head. "No, I'm glad we talked... You see Harry I've been wondering about our... relationship."

_Relationship?_ Harry wondered if he had given the girl the wrong impression on his 'I-can't-have-a-girlfriend-and-its-not-fair ramble.

Seeing his blush, the fair child shook her head. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to embarrass you. It's just that Harry, you are a good friend to me." Her delicate features bored into his soul. "But I know that is all we could ever be."

The dumbstruck look on the boy's face must have been what made the girl explain.

"You resent having to sacrifice your life because of Voldemort. You wish it could be different... But everyday, you get up and you keep fighting. You keep protecting people and even giving up your ow childhood to try and stop this darkness. Even if you are an unwilling celebrity, you are a full-blooded hero Harry. And me... I have lived a life where the proud perished and the morally straight agonized. I live to get by, to avoid tension and fighting wherever it is. I try to... please people in whatever way I can so that they will allow me to live in peace. That is why we could never be an item—you are a fighter, and I am a peacemaker. You are the hero I don't want and I am the maiden who you don't need to rescue. But I am glad that we are friends, if you don't mind me calling you that."

Ignoring the hasty ending, the wizard felt her words making sense, a little shred of truth in all this mess. "Your right Celia, thanks."

A smile appeared on his face and feeling a little less worried, the prophesied teen stood up, but finally asked a question that had been nagging him.

"When we first met in Blair's office... what was it that she gave you?"

With her amazing capability to understand her true friend's confusing words the witch replied.

"It was a magical medallion... an anti-pregnancy charm."

As his friend, Harry had every right to get extremely angry at Malfoy for this.

"That big git is he—" Before the young hero could finish, the pacifist had put her hand on his shoulder to quiet him.

"Draco Malfoy rescued me from life on the street. When I asked for this charm, I did not know his conditions on which he would keep me safe. So I was cautious, but for all your loathing of each other the boy has never laid a finger on me. Kissed me once or twice yes, showed me off, but Draco Malfoy has not taken what he could have... Don't look so surprised Harry. I told you I'm not a fighter like you are. I was willing to go that far to stay off the streets, its not a good life there."

Unsettled but forced to accept this information the heartthrob nodded slowly.

§

Flashes, undefined rolled across his sight and her words floated in his mind.

"_My earliest memories are few and scattered... They came only in dreams and are the only key to my birth. The eyes I showed you is the only visual memory I have..._

_There was a voice, a man's. Deep and heavy-laden with laughs as he spoke. "Ally, what are you up to know my dear?"_

_Then there was a feeling. Falling, hitting something biting and freezing, which burnt the skin and blew softly into the hair. And then a light pressure around the neck, hot breath licked against the cold as it pulled the body our of the snow._

_The last was a smell—the wrong smell of blood mingling with sweat and the stench of a wet animal. Dirt blended with the scents of the wild, and something potent suddenly entered the air..._

He gasped, pulled out of her memories again.

"Some crazy dreams you have." The green-eyed seeker tried to joke.

Blair gave him a smirk. "Well it is a bit more interesting that your tale of evil step-families, a half-giant, and learning your a wizard."

The younger of the two scowled in mock. "At least I know my age and name."

The multi-haired woman flicked her student easily on the head.

"Were you able to learn anything from my memories? Your memories of your first days are meaningless."

Ignoring her comment, the black-haired boy replayed the snatches in his mind. "I am sure those are my mother's eyes though. I'll bring a photograph tomorrow and see if it means anything to you."

Their hour had proceeded with little. Harry shared his first important recollections and the immortal had explained that before her life with Blayne she knew almost nothing. Her captor had destroyed every memory of her childhood before then, but she was determined to find out who she was—her age, parents, hometown... And had been searching ever since leaving Blayne almost two years ago. But those memories... what to make of them?

"Why is it that every answer I find brings ten more questions?" The wizard snapped, rubbing his head.

The Aduru opened her mouth for a snappy retort when something happened. It was almost as though a pulse had just shot through everything, one giant ripple.

"What was that?"

But Blair was not listening. Her lean body taunt, golden eyes wide. Another pulse came, shuddering through the world. Striding with amazing speed to her window, the DADA professor threw it ope to reveal a twilight quickly vanishing into nightfall, a few stars seeping through.

"Professor?" Harry called, confused and slightly alarmed.

The Eposis ignored him, but a hand clenched the nape of her neck as though it was bleeding, golden eyes hard with understanding.

"That idiot—he's done it! Stupid mortal, he's brought Death into this war!"

§

A/N: What has Voldemort done? Any theories, its fun to read them. Anyways the next few chapters will get deep in the immortal magics and a pissy vampire king. Thanks to all my reviewers—your my inspiration!


	24. War of Revelations

§

_Death is one of our greatest mysterious and our biggest fears. But death in the factual, is the opposing fore to life. It's goal is to dominate all that breaths, beats, and believes. It is a dangerous fore that no mortal can overcome...easily. _

_Immortality is not a myth, but it is rare, selective, and painful. As death has a desire it is an item with thoughts, though without gender, or personality. In retrospect, it is the destruction of person and soul. All death's forces go into its only plan for absolution. The biggest problem death is faced with is the border. Life and the after realms are sealed apart by blood, time, and will. When mortals loose their blood, they can pass through. Likewise, they can use up their time and pass through. Some unfortunate creatures pass through the gates to the dead by simply loosing the will to survive. It is inevitable that we all die. But you see like life finds a way to enter the next realm, death found a way to creep back into life. A mortal soul that has died usually fades into his waters and rests in harmony, without time or fight or pain. It is soothed and exists in content. But some souls fight. There is something within them that refuses to bend, and that breaks the barrier of will in order to retain life. Seeing these few souls, death found a plan. He offered them a body to have the key of blood, and using his old deep magic would keep them ageless, untouched by time. This would allow the spirits to return to life. The only condition is that they serve death and fight against life once they had gotten it. If they agree, the mortal has the three keys to enter into life again, and become a servant of their master. They are the immortals. Another name I have found for them, is Death-Dealer. _

_Time is one of the greater forces in the world and is nearly impossible to defeat. It only stops once we are dead. An immortal however, has been given a deep magic by their master. It links them to an element in life, one that has been and will forever be, one that can defy time. Since these elements are rare, they are only a few immortals. They have three links to complete their ring of power. An element, a trait, and a force create the awesome power of the Death-Dealers. The ones I know of our listed below:_

_Light/Day/Fury_

_Dark/Night?_

_Water/Sea/Desire_

_Air/Wind/Desperation_

_Fire?_

_These are the five elements that can defy time. However I have only encountered the immortal of light, water, and wind. Briefly I saw the creature of darkness, but not enough to know his force._

_The Death-Dealer of light is named Seraphina. I managed to talk to her briefly by offering my eldest son to her. She is a beautiful creature, but her features are never at peace, always contorted in anger. Below is a black and white sketch of her, although you can never quite draw them right. Her sheet of hair goes straight down to her ankles in a sheet of white-gold. Her skin is deep bronze, and flawless. Seraphina has on oval face and soft bone-structure. Her nose is straight, and her eyes are large, and always wide in a burning orange. Her mouth is thin though, and always in a snarl. Her body is extravagantly tall and willowy. But her hands, I watched rip apart the neck of my oldest child. She told me the basics of immortals, and her own traits. She allowed me to live, simply because my blood was old and worthless to her, the immortal had said. Her voice was loud, and beating. _

_To see the creature of water, I offered an engaged woman I had captured. A muggle, foolish on her wedding day to fall into my trap. Instead of killing her though, the Death-Dealer chained her to the bottom of the lake she resided in, and swore to make her wait 150 years without her lover before allowing them to be reunited in death. Then she turned and allowed me to talk. Her name is Larka. _

_She is a more human height a notice at first, and her voice is not monotone, but rippling with calm. Her hair had a relaxed wave to it, and had a base of navy blue, with stands of churning white, kelp green, and azure. Her eyes... I have never seen eyes like that. A stunning turquoise that captured light and shadows for such depth. Her skin was white like cresting waves. Larka had features that were much more inhuman than Seraphina however. Her face had a mystical look, almost as if it was always shifting without moving. A small nose, slight eyebrows, and long bangs seemed ever-present. Larka radiated deep power where her sister showed it. It was her who told be one thing I had not known. _

_The key to immortality is to have died before._

_And the strength of the immortal depended on the suffering they had faced in life._

_Astor was the first male Death-Dealer I encountered. He was also the most pleasant of them. I offered him my wife, who he refused. Instead he asked me to write this book, and place it in a safe, but not secret spot. To this day I do not know why, and I did not dare to ask the immortal. Astor was like a god. He was tall, but not to the inhuman extent of Seraphina. His frame was built of lean muscle for speed and swift strikes. His hair was dusty white, sprinkled with periwinkle, cornflower, and lilac. It was formed at an angle, reaching down the nape of his neck, up his head, and long bangs cascading down his forehead in a free, but perfect fashion. The immortal male's features were wise, ageless, and yet cut and strong. His cheekbones and jawbone formed a prominent, smooth angle. His nose was slightly long, but perfectly straight. His clear, strange white eyes were framed with arching eyebrows, showing no emotion throughout our talk. Astor was the most willing to divulge the secrets of the Death-Dealers, I suspected that when I he asked me to write it down. He explained how one of them could only be killed by each other, or by their master. However they rarely fought out of preservation. An immortal has three basic powers represented by their traits. As wind, he controlled the skies and the storms. As air, he could choke out life with a simple raise of his fingers and also grant it, if he so desired. He added that it was not in the nature of a Death-Dealer to save lives however. They killed without remorse, either out of obedience or pleasure. Mortals were below them. However, there were boundaries for immortals. Astor told me the key to controlling an immortal, and I recorded each point with precise. _

_"Each immortal has a weakness. It allows Death to control us. I shall not tell you mine, nor any others. However if you would find the flaw in one of us, that creature would be bound to do your bidding and even their master could not stop that. However you must be careful if you even capture my kin. They will turn on you at any chance you give them..."_

_The immortal of darkness I can give no name. I met him in a flash, when he killed a man I saw near. I do know however, by his necklace, which identifies them, that he was night from the black moon. And later on in life, I learned his weakness..._

_-Excerpt from the Book of the Dead, pg 1123-1125_

§

Voldemort inwardly smirked as his long-fingered hands continued to stir the small cauldron. Weeks of preparation and it was finally coming to an end. The poor black-coated pot had no idea of the destruction it was brewing over the darkening flames. If it did, it would probably break in despair. Crimson eyes carefully watched over the potion while his thoughts traveled back to the well-versed pages after 1,125 in the Book of the Dead. It told of each immortal, and their theorized weakness. The Dark Lord allowed a low chuckle to escape his thin lips.

_I have captured the power of shadows without her help..._

Of course, upon examining the immortals the master of death eater's had chosen the creature of darkness and night.

_With his power under my command this war will end shortly._

The most feared person of his time he may be, but the former Riddle was still a person. And his vanity had desired the most Gothic beauty, the darker arts. Naturally, selecting the immortal of night to do his bidding sated the man's pride.

The metallic gray liquid bubbled in its container, churning with streaks of ebony and scarlet. The list of ingredient's unconsciously went through its maker's mind.

_Blood of a unicorn colt, tainted purity of a soul_

_Heart of a Dementor, endless evil of our fears_

_Fur of a werewolf, the hunters of night_

_Fang of a vampire, call upon blood-ties_

_Blood of the maker, used to bind_

_... and the last item:_

_Milk from a tortured mother's breasts_

Voldemort switched the position he was turning the potion. The last ingredient of course, had turned out the hardest. The fear-invoking wizard knew how to torture people of course, he was no stranger to antagonistic delights. But it was finding a suitable subject that had given him so much trouble. Yet he had finally found a young, pregnant witch who had been widowed the month before. A short struggle with his pawns and her mangled body had been brought to him, coated with blood and tears. And this time, there was no curse left on him.

With a slight cruel grin, the Dark Lord watched the red and black contents of the cauldron bind together like chains amongst the churning gray. He knew the mixture was done then. So with a subtle laugh he began to chant the words under his breath, raising red eyes to the cloudy night sky. He felt the aura of ancient, powerful magic sweep by as it pulsed through everything, calling for the death dealer. She would know soon, but it wouldn't matter because soon the shadows would be under the power of one man. Another pulse shot out, dark ripples on a horizon that would lead many to an early end. Lord Voldemort was waiting.

§

Harry was still shaking as the pulsations ended. His eyes transfixed on the figure in front of him. He felt as though his body could no longer function, the power had been so deep it jarred his mind. All he could think to do was watch, with emerald eyes, his professor. She had never moved so fast. The moment the waves ended, a stream of curses hurled from her tongue and she flew up the stairs into her current sleeping quarters. A breath passes and she was racing back down, hair pulled up in a gold band, thick black fingerless gloves on her hands, a red cloak thrown over her shoulders and the knouter fastened to her waist. She eyed her pupil suddenly, as if just realizing he was there. With another curse her hand descended on him, pulling the boy up to his feet. Golden eyed swiftly crossed over the chosen one, before grabbing his wrist and pulling the black-haired teen along. Harry's body tried its best to comply with her swift strides, forcing him to sprint flat out to keep up with her as she moved throughout the castle halls, full of dazed students. It flashed through Potter's mind that his DADA teacher could move so much quicker if she had left him.

"Why didn't you leave me?" The seeker managed to mutter, still trying to shake away the fuzziness in his head.

Blair replied irritably with a slight glance back.

"You were practically defenseless idiot."

Stumbling to keep up, Harry felt his mind clear and thoughts stop buzzing. He ignored the snarly, cover-up comment.

"And you cared?" He was baiting her.

Kryeen looked forward again, still guiding him up a familiar staircase before two stone gargoyles.

"Your essential for my memories." The multi-color haired woman muttered darkly.

But the celebrity didn't buy it. Still he knew when to let it drop. It was usually when she used the 'continue-and-I-kill-you-slowly tone. Still the mortal was curious.

"What was that?"

The woman uttered a password and then continued up the stairs, no longer dragging her companion, as he sped to keep on her heels.

"A summoning and binding spell." The immortal replied as they reached the door.

"What did it do?" The boy-who-lived managed one final question as her sharp fist turned open the door without knocking.

He automatically followed her into the oval office, but for once the green orbs did not immediately dart for the great wizard before him. They stayed with the powerful witch.

The golden-eyed being noticed his impatient stare and took one breath before answering.

"A death-dealer."

§

Draeg Darkling pierced the mortal in front of him with his cardinal gaze. Slowly, he looked back down at the twisting red mark on his arm that smoldered. It was a full moon, held fast by a twisting serpent. Then he glanced back up at the vile creature before him.

_To kill him in so many ways..._

The silence was stifling in the death eater's camp. They gathered in a wide circle around th vampire fear keeping them still. The sky had fallen deep into night, a starless new moon night of ominous dark.Finally the immortal spoke.

"You have no idea what you have done mortal." His smooth, sharp, monotone sent shivers up a few of the cloaked figures.

The serpent that bound him however, only smirked and held up a thick, aged tome.

"This book has told me all the secrets of your kind, death-dealer."

The incarnate of night glared death at the volume.

"Meddlesome man, I could kill you all in an instant."

Voldemort simply kept his calm and dangerous smirk.

"I order you not to kill me, nor any of my followers."

The vampire lord let out a fierce hiss as the dull red mark on his arm lit up once more and seared his skin. When the pain subsided he uttered two furry-bitten words.

"Curse you!"

The Dark Lord gave no reply to this, but his voice tuned out more commands.

"You are to aid me in the war against the rest of the wizardry world. You may never harm me or those I say. You are to listen to me alone."

The dark immortal let out another hiss as his skin burnt with each rule, binding deeper into his skin.

"Why did you summon me?" The pale-faced man asked with venom.

"Because you are darkness, and I control the darkness. You are as shadowed as my heart, and fear-invoking to my enemies." He replied with his own red eyes.

"Do not compare me to yourself, mortal scum!" The fangs flashed with their owner's temperament.

"You were mortal once, death dealer." There was a kind of chilling greed lighting up his inhuman face.

This time the vampire laughed. "Do you wish to become one of us, accursed creature? The Aduru has made that possible, I suppose."

He-who-must-not-be-named visibly tightened. "How has Blair done this? She is the immortal of fire and completes the pentagon. There can only be five of you at a time."

Bright eyes narrowed and a mirthless sound issued. "The Aduru Eposis completed are ring, and yet she also broke it The foolish creature cannot control her own power. Aduru killed the Luminarium."

The greedy light distorted his face once again. _Blair, thank you._

"Later we shall attend to that business. Now the dementors hunger. You will take them out and allow them to feed. You may do what you like with any who oppose." His scar burnt again.

"Why do you involve me in your filthy mortal war, a war without a name!" Darkling jeered against the pain.

Voldemort let out a bone-crunching, short laugh. "Oh no, this war has a name. This is the War of Revelations."

§

Next chapter: The battles begin as the war goes upscale and casualties mount. Draeg tries to drag Blair into the War, and the dead Guardian left something behind...


	25. Daemon's Determination, Celia's Choice

A/N: 'Shuffles feet' Sorry about the long time it took to update. I had the worst writer's block. But after almost a month it was cured with a one-shot about Ginny and Limewire. So here you all are, the newest chapter!

§

That night was a lot of firsts:

The first hours of winter, ushered in by the chiming clock of midnight rather than a fall of snow upon the dark cloudiness of the starless sky.

What would later be called the first night of the War of Revelations. It was the start of a long, vehement attack on all good and some bad in this world. The midnight blue blanket hung in respectful remorse as cries trilled into the air. Dementors are silent but their prey is never. Having your soul removed, your emotions fed upon, it will rise a moan in even the most stoic of men and the deadest of woman.

It was the first time he had ever heard her say the term_ death dealer_. It was also the last time he ever desired to hear it again. But it wold be like a fissure under his feet. A dark shadow, lingering just at the corner of his mind and speaking of certain doom.

It was the first time Professor Kryeen had ever seemed unhostile... or the hostility at least, was not directed at anyone there. She was angry, but also clever and... worried. If it was plausible for the knit in her smooth brow and narrowing of her golden eyes to be dictated as concern, that was the moment for it.

Above all, it was the first time Harry realized the magnitude of this war. It meant mass killings, and simple assassinations. It meant torture and sadism would pollute the air. Everyone and everything was threatened. This was a war where the invisible boundaries of reality and comprehension had been broke. Death, the actual incarnate, was involved in this war. Or at least one of his vassals were.

After all, the only way Death would truly enter this war is if another death dealer joined into the strife... on the other side.

_And Blair refuses to be a part of the War, for either side._

Harry Potter's captivating veridian eyes were closed, but sleep was an unknown. His mind reeled with different emotions on this little bit of information.

_Did I really except her to help us battle Voldemort?_

The sting of betrayal in his gut told him yes.

_I thought she was going to help us... she is so bloody powerful!_

It seemed natural for his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to help in the fight against the greatest dark wizard of the times. She **was** fearless, he had seen her fight. There was no hesitation, no afterthought. It made her reckless, untamed, captivating..._immortal._

Green eyes snapped open under stray locks of ebony hair. They glassed over with memories of the past hours.

§

_The events were a blur, but somehow the boy-who-lived was brought from his Headmaster's office the DADA room again. And in that point of time, Lupin, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, and Celia had been taken into the firelight room. Daemon was wheeling around, looking agitated in his burgundy feathers. The sixth year took a seat beside his two best friends, and the platinum-crimson haired woman began to pace, one hand grasping the other's wrist behind her back as though to restrain from lashing out. The cruel whip was still hilted on her belt, and the cloak danced about her heels._

_"I know all your stupid questions to don't bother to ask them. Just shut up and listen." Her tasteful voice was dipped in irritation and uprising._

_Whatever was happening, she didn't like it._

_And no one in the room was stupid enough to not comply with her rude command._

_Blair took a breath, and then launched herself head-first into a million facts about things that belonged in a fantasy story, not tangible like the chairs the small party sat upon._

_"There are two forces in everything. They form the original opposition, old as time and too ancient to be called back in full. You have created petty words to describe these powers which spawn all things. But you will recognize the word if not the meaning it has. To put it simply, they are Life and Death. _

_Life is creation—emotion, fate, time. Life **is**. Death is emptiness—discard, unbound, forever. Death **isn't.** Death is the lack of existence and as such there is no time, no destiny to bind it. There is no remorse, no humanity or soul. Death is a continuous, unchanging end. Life is... well, you get it. These two forces follow opposition as everything does because everything learns of opposition from them. Life wards away Death on strings and Death tries to creep up to Life in silence. The power of their fight escalated into a war with their subjects as pawns. Death formed an incarnate, or is an incarnate, whichever your sheltered thoughts can grasp. Damn, your language is so inadequate to explain anything novel."_

_Blair was fidgeting as she paced, her fingers clenching and releasing the knouter at her waist. Her wand seemed like a simple strip of wood—weak and unimportant—compared to that item of torture and death she wielded. Come to think of it, when had she used her wand besides a few lessons? The professor preferred wandless magic, he realized. _

_"But you see Death had a problem. All the souls it ruled over had passed on to it, and could not go back into life. It received the trash, and had no way to get back into life. After all, no one can die and come back again. Spirits can return, but it was not strong enough for the destruction the power wants. But then he found a soul, one so tortured it could not find rest in emptiness but fought against everything for its sheer anguish. It used these spirits of the unbreakable and offered them a great temptation._

_To live again, freed from what caused such intense harm in the past life. Power to dominate, to never be hurt again. A body to roam once again, molded in perfection. All the spirit had to do was serve Death in the other realm. You had to become his servant, a player against Life. If you accepted then you were given all as promised, and marked as a death dealer. There are few, and scattered, but deadly. Only Death or another death dealer can kill one of us."_

_It was when she used the word us that Harry realized it. Of course, he should had put two-and-two together; he had the knowledge. But the thought of Kryeen actually being a death dealer hadn't even crossed him until then. She had chosen to fight against even death. She had... died. Ron's small murmur told the chosen one that his best mate had just realized it too. But a glance over at Hermione's drawn, glinting face and he was sure she had already figured this out. _

_"Once sent back a death dealer has no conscience of killing. It is what we do, tear at life. However we keep out of mortal affairs for the most part. And that is why this is all so...Fuck."_

_Apparently the immortal hadn't been able to find an 'adequate' word to describe the situation at hand._

_"Professor Kryeen I must ask you to refrain from such language in front of present company." Albus had a calm voice still, but it was dashed with exhaustion and anger._

_Her golden eyes fixated on the wizard._

_"Shut up." She didn't even bother with an insult._

_"I will gladly comply as long as I do not hear any more... shall we say questionable, use of vocabulary." _

_She was using her 'fuck you' glare again, but a slow smirk worked its way onto her full lips. It was somehow alarming with the dangerous narrowing of her bird-like eyes._

_"Bumblebee, do you know why I am letting you here all of this?" Her deadly whisper._

_Harry blinked at the name. Was it an insult or was Blair capable of handing out pet names?_

_"I would be pleased to know." Dumbledore was one of the select people who emancipated no instant fear after being addressed like that._

_"Tom has somehow found out about death-dealers. He has used an ancient spell to bind one of them. That immortal is under his complete control. The idiot is now controlling one of the most powerful creatures in this world. Death has entered this war."_

_"No force can enter into a war without having opposition my dear." Albus replied, surveying her over the top of his spectacles._

_Her mouth opened, then shut again, then opened for the soft venom of her whisper._

_"I am not a part of your war, mortal. I will not fight in something so meaningless." But her fury could not be contained, so she strode away from them, slamming a door in her wake._

That had been half an hour ago. The green-eyed Potter kept replaying those words in his head. She had left before he could interject, argue. Why wouldn't she help them? Why was she so reluctant to enter a war? Professor Blair** loved** to fight, he saw it burning in her soul. So then...

Why?

§

Celia Magnatine walked alone on the grounds well past curfew. She hoped that no trouble would come of it, but her need to be out in the cold stillness of a winter night was overwhelming. Her thoughts were too jumbled and the lake was her source of quiet comfort.

The beautiful witch sat down on the sandy bank beside the cool depths of the blackening waters. A shiver ran down her spine as the cool touch of winter's rising fingers slipped in to her skin. Her blue orbs looked into the water without seeing. The gentle ripples rose to wet the hems of her robe.

The brunette did not like opposition, and as such she did not favor wars. But she knew that the wild professor was her clear difference in opinion over struggle. Blair thrived in a battle, but she would not fight in a war.

_There is something more to this battle then she is telling us. What is she hiding?_

A crescent moon lingered in the sky, casting its weakened glow. No stars formed to dash the world in silver hue, but the faint lining of clouds was somehow just as soothing.

_Whenever I think I know you, you always come out with another surprise, professor._

A soft smile barely teased at her smooth, coral lips.

_But I should not be thinking just about Kryeen now. She can deal with herself, even if I cannot fathom her—ever. No, I should be asking another question._

There was an amount of hesitation in the former street rat to address the true nature of her thoughts. It was not refusal, that was not a part of her character. Rather it was the sad knowledge of asking yourself something you are sure will change everything in a moment.

_Am I fighting?_

_Am I a player in this war?_

That was the first issue to tackle in the peace of her surroundings. Celia was not a fighter, she knew this. She was one to watch from the sidelines, allow events to pass her by.

_Overcome boundaries deemed impossible_

It was Daemon's hauntingly beautiful voice echoed in her mind like a chime. Perhaps it was time to stand up for once. After all, somehow the seer knew that this fight was going to drag her into it somehow. Better to go walking then stumbling.

And then there was the second decision she had to make.

_Which side of the fight to aid?_

Draco was on Voldemort's side. Harry was on...should she call it Dumbledore's side? Might as well, no harm could come from her mental naming of things.

Pansy Parkinson was on Voldemort's side.

Ron and Hermione were on Dumbledore's.

Blair was out of the war.

Daemon was...

Where was the phoenix? Normally she would assume he would side with the woman but she had stayed shy of choosing.

_That is how I will choose. _Magnatine realized, standing up and smoothing off the crinkles in her robe.

Daemon was amazingly perceptive, wise, and gentle.

She would fight alongside him for whoever he choose.

The doll-like figure took three steps before her deep cerulean eyes spotted an approaching form.

Her small smile appeared again, and the shy witch bent down, delicate hand outstretched.

"Hello again, it's been a while since I have seen you around."

The sleek body of the chatdemer appeared. The blue-hued skin shining with water from the lake it had just been in. The large, haughty eyes surveyed the girl with interest and knowing as the creature approached, nudging her pale hand with its perfectly circular head.

But then it looked back up at the younger figure, and from its lip-less mouth a dreamy, rippling monotone.

"Do not scream."

And the chatdemer transformed, a strong, beautiful hand gripped the silent Slytherin's wrist.

Eyes pattered with all hues of turquoise and ever-moving captured her undivided attention.

"I want to talk."

§

"I understand."

"No you don't. Now shut up before I stuff something in that overgrown beak of yours."

"...You gave me this beak."

"Oh, stop being so vain Daemon! It's damn annoying!"

"That is the third time tonight you swore."

"So what? Damn, shit, fu—"

"You're upset."

"You're an idiot."

"I'm twice as sensible then you."

"Then your an idiot and I'm a sped."

"Voldemort will attack here."

"Well aren't we observant."

"He'll go for the boy."

"Your point?"

"You stopped pacing."

"So, what the hell are you saying Daemon?"

"Draeg will kill Harry. We both know that Blair. Nothing these people do will save him."

The Aduru was standing stock still on the cushioned floor of her bedchamber. A single bed sat against the window, bed sheets a soft ivory compared to the black of the floor. The wide walls were painted differently then the classroom but obviously done by the same hand. The base was refracting in its colors. Blotches of darkening azure, tempting lilac, burnt orange, flaxen yellow, magenta-brilliant pinks, and strews of white clouds pulled off a truly amazing sunset. A red line went all around the room where wall met floor, spreading out and diluting in fractions of light. It was the horizon, the dying sun.

Feathers, ebony in both hues, danced around the sky. The white ones fluttered easily in their soft, whimsical texture. The black ones fell harder, sharper and more defined in their form. A few were white tipped with black, or black topped with white. It was both abstract and beautiful.

A single nightstand, a wide, varnished table, and a lamp were the only other pieces of furniture. This room reflected its occupants **soul** while the classroom below it showed her **spirit**.

Daemon was sitting on his perch, made of pearly marble.

Crimson feathers gleamed under the firelight that resonated from the woman's spell in the room. The flames were on the ceiling in the classroom. Here they clung to the carpet, edging the bottom of the walls and fiery red paint of the horizon. The arctic blue eyes were fixated on the Eposis.

"I know that Daemon." Blair finally said. Her tone had softened a bit from the one she had just been using before. Perhaps it had just grown in less volume. But her golden eyes had darkened, aging her wild face.

The red-feathered teen also lost the usurping air about him in response.

"It is good to care about him."

Defenses shot up, even the presence of a person she had known for years.

"Fabulous, except for the fact that I don't."

"Why did you help him then?" The spirit was patient, and would wait for his companion to realize what he already knew.

"Harry is essential to my memories. If he is right then I have been dreaming of his mother's eyes." Of course, she had such a good way of denying it.

"Then why not go to Voldemort or Tom, whichever you prefer, and help him kill. If you don't care then fight against him."

The death-dealer seethed. "Draeg is working for Tom right now, may I remind you."

"But you want to kill the vampire. That much is obvious." The blue-eyed youth pointed out.

"Of course I do. I would have killed him already if he hadn't ran out of our last fight."

"But you are still here, at the castle."

There was a pause as Blair sought to justify her actions again. The kid knew how to pin her down. So she did what she usually did when caught.

"Shut up already. Don't you have to go chase your seer? Why don't you fly out and find the damn girl, or are your feathers not glossy enough!"

Most people would back down, enraged at having both buttons pushed. Daemon knew he was a tad bit vain, and being who she was the DADA teacher shoved that in his face while mocking the fact that he couldn't ever have a real relationship with Celia. But time teaches you to deal, even with people like her.

"Even if you won't admit it, Blair, there is a reason you have not left the castle. Your subconscious actions explain themselves. Deny, belittle, storm about it if you want. But the fact is, **sister**, that you remain at Hogwarts because you know that a death dealer is coming to kill Harry Potter. And rather than go and hunt the vampire down now you stay and wait. All this because you, in some fashion, are protecting the boy."

After the boy's speech, the fiery woman stayed silent for a moment. Insults were her way of distraction. Where most people simply changed the subject politely she would belittle, push, and snarl until the speaker was too enraged or afraid to continue in the conversation.

But the large bird knew her, and he would not give in. He would make her see what she didn't really want to acknowledge.

That was why she loathed him.

That was why she needed him.

That was why she fought him.

That was why she stayed with him.

That was why she was his sister, and he was her brother.

It was as simple as that.

In one last effort, Blair spoke again.

"How the hell would you know if I'm protecting him?"

A sad, amused smile lit in his icy orbs.

"Because sister,"

The familiar names were rarely used between the two. They were not really kin. It just brought up unnecessary remembrances of the past. A past where they had all been together, two brothers and a woman. A sister and a lover.

"You do the same thing for me."

Blair didn't have a comeback for this one.

§

**I breathe reviews. Please don't allow me to suffocate.**


	26. A Living Martyr

§

The most extreme events in life are silent. The fear that lodges your throat, the pain that renders speechlessness, the elation that words cannot express. Death is the final extremity, the long mute that we never recover from.

Harry was experiencing a silence. From when the deadly note lazily drifted into his hands to the chill that crept into his core when all denial was abandoned. And now he was making his way through the Great Hall, toward the double doors he needed to reach.

A flash of yellow-red stepped into his vision and his hand which was outstretched for the doorknob, met the soft fabric of a robe. Slowly, his hazed green vision traveled upward to the face.

An exotically beautiful face glared back down at him. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

Something in the rich, satin layers of her voice began to awake him from the comatose state his mind had decided to rudely take. However it left room for only one other emotion.

§

Hermione stumbled on her robes while running, Ron grabbing her wrist to help her stand while keeping up the fast pace.

"Thanks," She said quickly before they both returned their frantic calls.

"Harry!"

"Mate, come on, what's up?"

Their best(and most troublesome) friend had been delivered a note by the snowy owl just this morning. Hedwig had not waited for a reply, and when the teen had read the letter, he found something in the package. Clutching both in his hands, the Gryffindor walked straight out of the dormitories and he was certainly not headed for first period with Snape. So, being concerned and quite decent people, Weasley and Granger had followed after him.

"Harry, what is wrong?" The bushy-haired bookworm finally managed to catch up to professor and pupil, Ron right on her heels.

Blair's eyes vaguely drifted over them, giving a nod of approval while her attention was obviously still on the rebelliously mute boy in front of her. Kryeen asked a very acceptable question that both teens wanted an answer to and then Ron saw it. It was the simple fact that he was the only other male that only the youngest male brother noticed it. His best mate had snapped at her words. He caught that hazed fury in Harry's green eyes just in the last moment.

A strong fist swung at the surprised DADA teacher, coming short due to the quick arm that had grabbed the 'chosen one' by his collar.

"You," Potter spat out, making the immortal blink. She had only seen him this... enraged at her during the test, after she had purposely pushed his buttons.

_Did I do something lately? _She wondered vaguely,coming up blank.

"Harry," The keeper croaked palely behind him. He had learned not to mess with the unpredictable woman.

"It's all **your** fault! If you had only **helped**! All this wouldn't have..." However the seeker could no longer find words to express his total fury.

A flinch hadn't moved Aduru's face as golden eyes swept over the black-haired youth.

"You're not making any sense. Try again before I knock it out of you." Somehow her voice didn't have the usual scathing tone.

The reluctant celebrity might have noticed that if he was not exhausting every emotional outpour at the moment. With shaking hands, the wizard dove into his robe and pulled out a thin, cream-colored parchment. It didn't look like much of an opposition, in the death dealer's eyes. However she took it, read the neatly scrawled and suspiciously loopy handwriting. After less than a moment, bird-like eyes went back up to scar-face.

"So that girl has been swiped and you are going to play the hero and go save her?"

The two other exchanged a confused glance, but the brash aura, frightfully reminiscent of the one he wore when 'rescuing' Sirius last year, still remained as words came in response.

"Well since you are so happy staying out of _stupid mortal affairs_, it doesn't really matter what I'm doing now does it?"

Blair's glare hardened. "If you go to the death eater camp you will cease to be the boy-who-lived very quickly."

"Death eater camp?" Hermione yelped in alarm.

Harry was shaking with barely controlled feeling. "I won't leave her to die!"

"Harry, what is going on?" Ron demanded a bit firmer.

Pulling in a deep breath, the green-eyed warlock turned to his best friend. "Ron... they took Ginny."

§

The youngest and only female child of the Weasley's was not a very happy camper. Here she was, just practicing some early-morning Quidditch when the quaffle escaped her and went into the forest. Used to much more frightening things then the Dark Forest (Her mother's anger as one of them, Tom Riddle a close second) the pretty fifth-year made her way into the twisting branches for the red ball when she was hit with a paralysis spell, and a bag shoved over her head. Blindly carried, the witch was promptly dropped in a cold, dark place she quickly realized was a cave. No, Ginny Weasley was not a happy camper.

"Are you just going to sit there?" She snapped at the only other life.

Her guard glared at her with stubborn dark eyes.

"Yes, that is my **job**." The death eater replied with an irate voice.

The captive sighed exasperatedly. "I've been dumped in some cave with a stiff, absolutely fantastic."

The young man (he couldn't be over 30) had plain features. Dirty blond hair, dark brown eyes, fine lips, and a square nose. He was neither gorgeous nor ugly, a great blend of cliche. He gave her an odd look.

"You should be scared. You're in a death eater camp, little girl."

In response, the chaser shot him a withering gaze and snorted. "Really? Because all I see is a boring guy with bad taste in clothing and some moss on the walls."

"Once I'm done with you I will become a death eater too."

"The moss is more frightening than you."

The man's hard stare turned into open bewilderment as he looked over the teenager before him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Ginny smiled and winked. "Chronic boredom and a wet but."

The confused expression never left his face. "You've been captured by death eaters and you're not afraid?"

The red-head shrugged, her hazel eyes sparkling in the damp. "Well... This isn't the first thing to happen to me and I doubt it will be the last. This is war, and I'm still alive and relatively unharmed."

She had been commenting half to herself before, but now her focus was directed to the wizard before her.

"I guess, I realize that curling up in fear doesn't help anything so I just... deal with it."

Critically he surveyed her countenance. Upon finding no lie (Though he wouldn't have seen a lie even is she hadn't been truthful. She was good at lying, after all.) Finally the man broke into a grin and his entire being seemed much more relaxed.

"I'm Aidan."

_Perhaps he does have a personality. _The Gryffindor blinked before smiling herself.

"Ginny,"

_Though I can't trust him. He is working for the death eaters after all._

§

Blair gritted her teeth in anger as she sped through the skies.

_Of all the damn ideas that kid could come up with this one takes the Nobel._

The dimming brightness of the cerulean sky did nothing to ease the immortals nerves. Normally she would be relishing in the heightened adrenaline levels that came with an oncoming struggle. However, anxiety had now taken its place. As she continued toward the center of dark energy, her mind thought back to the last few events that led her to this point.

_Ron had reacted accordingly, his face pulling a comically uncomprehending look before fury and fear flooded into his honest eyes._

_"Who did?"_

_The question wasn't really needed, but somehow the brother hoped beyond dreams that his gut was wrong._

_But the defeated, resentful look filling his friend's eyes reassured him before the words. "Voldemort,"_

_Ron swore._

_"But what does he want with Ginny?" Hermione asked, confused as to what an insignificant girl could be to the dark lord._

_At this, Harry's entire face darkened several shades at a frightening level._

_"He... he is using her to get to me." The frown seemed so permanent on his lips._

_The note came out of their professor's hands and was read by both male and female._

_**Silly boy,**_

_**An informant told me that it would be of some interest to you that the blood-traitor's daughter is currently being held at our camp outpost. She remains safe until sunset. A portkey will be placed to lead you to her whereabouts if you are stupid enough to play the hero again. You will not escape this time, Potter.**_

_It was signed with a skeleton wrapped by a snake, the Dark Mark. _

_Suddenly Kryeen's words made a cynical amount of sense._

_"Harry, you can't! It's a trap!" Hermione said shakily, on the verge of tears._

_"I don't have a choice." Each syllable was pronounced with dark determination._

_"I'm coming." The older Weasley suddenly interrupted a retort from the girl._

_"Ron!" _

_"No. This is my fault, and I have to deal with it." The last Potter stated firmly._

_"Bloody hell, she's my sister!" _

_It seemed the two boys were going to fight when a most unlikely peace-keeper stepped in._

_"Shut up, both of you." Okay, the Aduru was not used to that role._

_"No," Harry rounded on her stubbornly. "Look, this isn't your fight so then... fine. But it is mine." _

_It was proof that the boy-who-lived had grow older that he no longer even attempted to blame his teacher. It was a combination of the scar on his arm, the clenching in his heart, and the way he knew somehow that she would simply accept it and undo it or accept it and scoff._

_**Damn bird, **Blair thought to herself with growing irritation. She was a death-dealer, for crying out loud! She didn't know how to treat a kid. But of course, Daemon had been right. The strange, flame-haired woman did not want any damage to come to her student. _

_"Going and getting your head blown off isn't going to get the girl back." Eposis snapped back._

_"Neither will staying here and not doing anything!" _

_"Stupid brat!" She hissed heatedly. Daemon was self-sufficient. She protected him from any physical harm, kept his soul tied to the body, and let him do as he pleased. She didn't have to convince Daemon not to go on suicide missions. The phoenix was too smart for that. But Harry had that annoying habit of putting others before him. The hero in him refused to sit by and watch people suffer. _

_b**Chivalry died years ago, idiot! **The golden-eyed witch thought sagely. "Look, just... don't do anything irreversibly stupid for an hour or so. I'll see if I can talk to Tom about dealing with useless people." _

_Harry blinked, but the shadowed look on his handsome face hardly passed. "Fine."_

_Professor Kryeen has lived too long in lies to not tell one when said to her._

_"Keep an eye on him, or better yet, get inventive with duct tape, plaster, body parts, and enclosed rooms."_

_With the strange direction, the even stranger woman walked off briskly, going presumably to Voldemort. _

_Immediately the black-haired teen had turned back to the double doors. _

_"Harry, I'll jinx you." Hermione stated firmly, drawing her wand. _

_Ron looked between them, and gave a twisted sort of smile. "And I'll take that crazy up on the duct tape idea."_

_Hard emerald eyes turned to bore into them._

_"Don't you want to save Ginny?"_

_Ron flushed in anger. "Of course I do, moron! She's my sister! But—"_

_"Then why are you stopping me?" The underage wizard cut in._

_"We're a team. The golden trio of Hogwarts. We do things together, Harry. That is how it has always been... why are you trying to push us away now?" _

_**Because this time I'm probably not coming back. This time you really could die, and I won't let that happen. **The tragic hero thought in bittersweet chord. He knew what he had to do, while the more clever witch had her guard down. It went against everything in him to do it, but a haunting image of two cold bodies flashed through his mind and the scarred 6th year felt his hand move on instinct._

_Without saying a word, his wand moved in a swift pattern. Both red-head and brunette went down stiffly under the power of wandless magic. Somehow the sun-tanned boy doubted Professor Lupin would approve of his usage of the new spell he had taught him._

_"Sorry you two." Harry said softly, propping them safely against the wall where the next person would see and free them from the full body-bind. "But I have a promise to keep. I can't let anything happen to either of you."_

_He lingered for a moment, the choice of leaving determining the long and spiked road he was picking by leaving them here. It was a path of loneliness that the chosen one would take because his sorrow now was nothing compared to the anguish that would happen if he last one of his two best friends. So Harry Potter made the choice. He accepted his role as the self-sacrificing hero as his back turned to the two people he had clung to for so long. He would no longer run from Voldemort... from fate. A faint smile appeared on his lips._

_"I have to leave you both so you can be safe... I have to let go."_

_And with those words, the last surviving Potter walked out to the Hogwarts grounds._

Blair had been the one to find a frozen Ron and Hermione. Cursing, they both recounted the tale. The spell allows the person to hear and see their surroundings, after all.

And that was how the Aduru Eposis ended up soaring toward the death eater encampment with that forgotten feeling in the pit of her heart.

_The letter said that the brat had until sunset. I'm running out of time._

The wind was suddenly very infuriating, cutting against her progress.

_They are probably going to give her to Draeg, since the vampire's element is night. Shit, that kid can't fight an immortal!_

She pushed her power-lined body harder, using that horrible crunching feeling as energy.

_If he gets himself hurt I will personally drag the idiot back to the castle and beat the living— _That feeling occurred again, and the fiery witch scowled as she identified it from the recess of another time.

It was anxiety. It was desperation.

It was the fear of loosing someone who matters. That was it.

Blair was truly afraid for the first time in so very long.

Because after all this time, she had someone that could be taken from her again.

§

"Why do you want to be a death eater?" The prisoner asked in a lull during the conversation.

Aidan rolled his eyes. "It's the best thing, of course."

"Oh, sorry I must have missed that between the mass murders and insane leader." The Weasley female replied with drooling sarcasm.

The blond man scoffed. "But that is it. If you're on their side, you won't be hurt."

Ginny eyed him in silence before speaking again.

"I have a family... a mother, a father... a few too many brothers. When this war started, I was afraid of loosing them. You see, in our own way we are all a part of the resistance. Except my prat of a brother who sucks up to Fudge like he's going to have a massive...Anyways, with so many of us I was worried that we wouldn't be able to make it through. But then my brothers Fred and George said something to me. They're the pranksters of the family so I never expected anything so... wise to come from them, but..."

She raised her pale hands to signify a simple acceptance.

"They said 'Don't be silly sis.' 'Of course we have to stay in the war, no matter what.' 'That's right, you see it's ten time better to go down as a martyr for what you truly believe than to sell your soul for a few more years.' 'Yeah, you see martyr's aren't forgotten so they live forever.'"

Aidan was silent, his dark green eyes filled with doubt as the girl continued.

"And even though their idiots... I still think they're right."

The young man was silent for a long time, lost in thought by the melancholic expression on his face.

"Death Eaters don't just kill, Ginny." He used her name for the first time. "They torture, manipulate, instigate... They can break a soul."

But the bold red-head just smiled back at his statement.

"Only if you let them."

Aidan snorted, seeming to catch himself. "What does a kid know about **his** ways?"

The younger glared. "At 11 I met Voldemort."

The older jumped at the name, wide-eyed.

Ginervia had gotten used to hearing it after spending time of the Order of the Phoenix headquarters.

"I somehow ended up with his cursed diary, and ended up possessed by his teenage memory. I live with half the resistance and my best friend in Harry Potter himself, which is why I'm guessing I'm here anyway."

Recovering from shock, Aidan smirked. "Clever little one, aren't you? Yeah, you're here to lure that brat to **him**."

"Harry won't die." There was no fear, no hesitation in her tone.

The man cocked an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"You have to know him to understand."

"Hmph,"

"He's too damn stubborn to die that easily."

The warlock looked his captive over again.

"You really have faith in him don't you?"

"...Remember that story I told you about martyrs?"

"Yeah,"

"He's a living martyr."

§

Hehe! Of fun, fun! I love the plot in this chapter. BTW- A little peek at next chapter:

_"You fool!" Draeg began laughing hysterically, making every human present wince. "After all you went through before you actually allowed yourself to become attached again? And to a human? That is too much! And now you can't complete the ring!"_

_"I don't need the ring. I never have." She spat in reply._

_"But as long as it remains incomplete you yourself were unfinished. But now that your heart is working again..."_


	27. A Snitch Locket

§

_"Mommy, why does daddy have to go to war?" Big blue eyes asked._

_Between rolling the pastry she explained. "To protect us, the ones he loves."_

_"Oh...Mommy, why do people try to hurt us? Did we do something wrong?" She sat at the table, tiny legs swinging._

_The woman smiled, tucking a strand of chocolate hair behind her ear. "No, the other solders are only trying to protect someone else."_

_The girl frowned, scrunching her face. "But I thought the other men were bad."_

_Her mother placed the pie into the oven. "They protect someone bad. That is why good people fight each other, Jesse. They love someone much they would die for them. But even bad people have someone to love them, to protect them."_

_"Even bad people can be loved—protected?" _

_"Aha, and even bad people can protect... and love."_

_§_

Another branch crackled under his feet, making Harry's hand clench on the wand. The thin stick of wood was feeling pretty useless in his hand.

_Not edgy now, are we? _The wizard asked himself, smiling grimly. The sun had long ago faded to the interlocking foliage of the Dark Forest. He could only guess at the time.

_Time is running out, but I should be nearing the portkey soon. Voldemort wants me to find it, after all._

Captivating green eyes scanned the area of gloomy glade. It was a monotony of despondent darkness and death; bare trees, crackled leaves, sickening yellow water, a red ball.

_Red ball? _

Sure enough the rogue quaffle was sitting calmly on a rotten log. Without a doubt, black-haired youth knew he had found the portkey. However his finger pressed to the lost toy did not react so he assumed it was not yet time. Sitting in the silence led the chosen one to think about what he was doing, or to be more precise, for whom.

_Ginny... _

The hue of the ball reminded him of her long locks and beaming smile, of the afternoons spent playing Quidditch together. It also reminded why he could never have a girlfriend until Voldemort was gone.

_I'm sorry Gin, it's all my fault. Stay safe... if something happened to you..._

He forced his thoughts away from the dark imagination of fear. He had to keep as calm as possible. Just focus on getting there, rescuing Ginny, then running back...

_To where? Portkeys only work one way._

He frowned at the thought. This ill-planned mission seemed to be falling apart already. And the suffocating atmosphere was doing nothing to help that.

_I could try to apparate away with her._

_And where would you go? You can't disapparate or apparate on Hogwarts grounds._

_The Burrow?_

_Lovely, lead the Death Eaters to kill the rest of the Weasley family. How about just going to the Grimmauld Place and showing them where the order is hiding?_

_Well then what do you suggest? _The seeker demanded of his inner-self.

_Going back to the castle and waiting for Blair to sort things out._

_...Ginny would be dead by then._

_And what will your death do to save her?_

_I'm going. _He told the persona firmly.

_Going to do what? If you wanted suicide there are easier options. _The snarky voice was reminiscent of Blair and Hermione.

_Joke all you want, I will find someway to save her._

Before the inner voice could rebuttal, the familiar pull around his navel brought him back to the world.

The voice gave a mental sigh. _Too late, we're dead._

_§_

Aidan shifted uncomfortably against the wall again. His charge's words were unsettling. Her swift brown eyes seemed to pick up on the movement, but she said no more about it.

"A living martyr? What an oxymoron." He pushed haughty disbelief in place of actual doubt, hesitation that would kill him.

However the prisoner met him with a sharp rebuttal. "Harry lives for us. He trains to fight Voldemort, pushes himself to protect the ones he cares about...He gives his life for us everyday. Because of that, Harry brings us hope and faith."

Her eyes smoldered with resolve."Hope and faith to defy Voldemort even if it costs us our lives. After all, that is the sacrifice he makes everyday."

The future death eater winced again at the name of the wizard, but didn't mention it. Instead his evergreen eyes turned to her, trying to conceal the hungry curiosity.

"Do you really believe that? Ginny, I thought you were smart."

At this the captive winked and smiled again while fiddling with a rock. "I am, thank you very much. I would be one hell of an idiot to not believe in Harry after all he's done."

Her jailer gazed deeply for another breath before turning away hastily. "Hm, you're such a child. There are no heroes in this world, no morales. It's a big-fish-eat-little-fish society and I intend to be the big fish."

The Weasley daughter seemed to consider this for a moment, a finger on her chin in thought. "But no matter what, a bigger fish would come along... I would rather die for a better world then live in that one."

The older blinked at her response, allowing open confusion before checking himself moodily. "Hah, you're so naive."

"And you're in denial."

The young man cocked an eyebrow. "Denial of what?"

The orange-haired girl gave a pretend sigh. "Of the fact that you are actually a decent person and not a mad murderer."

His frown deepened. "Shut up. What the hell would you know about me?"

The chaser rolled her eyes. "Enough to know that you're not as bad as the rest of them."

Water dripped from the roof of the cave to the rock floor, causing a timely splash. The space was darkening from oddly lit to dull gloom, speaking of an end to the day. All animals had been frightened out of the place long before the two lone figures entered. The atmosphere was thick, yet not hostile. Rather it was tense with challenge and change.

"I am a coward, Ginny. I value my own life too much." Aidan admitted bitterly, boring at his own callused palms.

But the witch was hardly blinked at this confession. "Everyone sane fears death. It's people like Harry that make us realize, however, that there are worse punishments than death."

Drip, the water played its countable tune in leeway of the silence.

"Like what?"

The girl shut her eyes, reminiscing over something her prison keeper could not see.

"Like loosing someone you love. Like hurting innocent people by your own stupidity. Like loosing the one battle you needed to win after winning the many that never mattered. Those punishments are so much worse then death."

The wizard scoffed. "And why is that?"

The pretty 5th year gave an off-handed shrug. "At least you don't feel the pain after you die."

Aidan was silent for a long stretch and Ginervia almost counted their conversation over.

"Will he come for you?"

"Yes."

"...They'll kill him. The Potter kid is still too young and too weak."

"He'll find a way."

"Why?"

"He's Harry Potter."

§

To say that Tom Riddle was surprised by the sudden appearance of a certain fire haired woman would have been a lie. But to say that he was happy would have been sacrilegious.

"What do you want Blair?" He demanded in scathing, slippery tones.

Golden eyes were rolled as she stepped through the window, not bothering to shut it afterward.

"Don't be moody Tom, it's irksome."

Crimson eyes narrowed. "Do not play games with me, _Aduru_."

Kryeen momentarily forgot why she was here at the sound of her title. "You have no idea what you are playing at Tom, summoning Draeg! You damn fool, he'll kill you!"

The Dark Lord smiled spitefully through thin lips. "You're afraid of him, little Blair. My vampire is stronger than you; I saw the fight."

The small reservoirs of the immortals patience were sapped.

_Note to self: Mortals suck._

Nearly screeching with rage, the erotic woman gripped the nearest object—an antique table—and hurled it at him. Without flinching the feared wizard broke it into fragments with his wand. Before the dust had cleared, the Eposis had him pinned against a wall, ignoring the serpent spell biting into her shoulder and causing a considerable amount of blood to fall to the ground.

"I would have killed Draeg if he had not run, I would remind you! Coward, Tom—that is you! What the hell do you need a child for? Is one boy really that hard for you to kill or are you just afraid like the worthless bastard you are?"

However the magicked snake on her shoulder suddenly grew larger and the professor was forced to relinquish her hold or have her head bitten off.

"Why do you care so much about Potter?" The snake asked with slitted eyes, wary of her response.

No way in hell was anyone else dragging the truth out of her today. "Why do you? Fear of a little, weak, boy? Pathetic!"

"His fate is entwined with mine. I will kill that child tonight." The most feared man of his time replied coldly, grinning dangerously.

The DADA instructor snorted. "You or your Death Eaters?"

Venom was laced in with his low tone. "I will kill _him_."

The teacher turned halfway, fingers burning carelessly through the wall she pressed against. "You know, Tom, had you not stupped as low as summoning Draeg I might have allied with you."

Flaring eyes smirked at the slight tightening of his tall, lean frame. Powerful, she would grudgingly admit, human she would play at, male she could work with. Continuing on with teasing nonchalance she spoke.

"But I cannot join forces with my enemies' friends. It is a shame really, to have to help that old geezer. But you had your chance Tom."

The woman let out a taunting sigh.

"Too bad. You were my first choice, but with all of this trickery I would rather just blow a few heads off. Death Eaters or Order of Phoenix, it doesn't matter to me. So I think tonight... you should tell your sheep to stay the hell away from me when I get the girl."

Voldemort hissed in anger, waving his wand in a complex pattern that drew thick, deep wounds all around her flesh. But Blair just laughed as she walked out the door.

"I'll play with you some other time Tom." _Damn that hurt! It's a good thing he has no idea how much that actually effects me._

And with a swish of an iron-colored lock, the death dealer was out of the room.

Now if only to find the two brats and leave.

§

Ron and Hermione had split apart and were currently dashing through the halls of their school. The Weasley brother turned a left corner at the Great Hall, running down the long hallway. Up a set of stairs, and even with continuous Quidditch practice he was beginning to get worn. Turning right, he came upon a forgettable wooden door. Panting, the red head pounded on the door.

"Professor Lupin! Professor we need your help! Pr—" The door opened abruptly and the person yelling went down with a thud.

"Ron, what is wrong?" An alarmed, though not as haggard, Remus asked from the doorway.

Catching his breath, the 6th year began to talk in rapid phrases.

"They took Gin... Harry going... got to stop him... Death Eaters."

However it was enough for the former werewolf to understand the message. He paled at first, then frowned and gripped the Gryffindor firmly by the elbow to keep him from sliding to the floor.

"Has Dumbledore been informed of this?"

The youngest brother nodded. "Hermione..."

§

Swift feet bounded through up the flight of moving stairs, catching a ledge before the temperamental house working had a chance to rearrange itself. A crowd of students passed by her, and Granger never slowed her pace, cutting through them with a flash of her Prefect Badge. Curly hair flying passed her cheek, robe wavering at her ankle, the witch made her way through the second landing and proceeded to the third, taking a sharp left turn. Lips pursued in frustration, she scaled the stairs until meeting two stone gargoyles. Her clear, crisp voice rang out the password and the two fat stone warriors hobbled out of her way.

"Professor," The clever 6th year called as she rapped smartly on the wooden door of the oval office.

There were low voices and small scuffles from inside the room.

"Professor, I need to talk to you immediately. It's about Har—" The brunette began again just as the door swung open to reveal a pair of starry blue eyes.

"Ms. Granger, whatever brings you to my office? You should be in your class now." His patient voice helped ease her grating nerves a little.

"I am sorry Professor, but it is Harry." Her warm cocoa eyes were darkened with worry and slight anger.

She had not forgotten what exactly her best friend had _done_ to her, and was still smarting from it. But their bond went too deep to be broken by some trivial form of thick-headed salvation. After all, the girl knew _why_ he had done it.

"What seems to be the problem, Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore asked with an amount of calm seriousness.

With a deep breath Hermione launched into the explanation. "He received a letter this morning and acted really anxious afterward. He skipped class and was trying to get out of the doors when Professor Blair intervened and..."

"Professor Kryeen was there?" The great wizard asked sharply, though not angrily.

Swallowing, the bookworm nodded. "Yes... and then we found out that the Death Eaters had caught Ginny Weasley and were using her as bait to lure Harry there. He of course..."

"Wanted to go save Ms. Weasley." Albus knew, looking grave and worried from the drawing lines across his face.

She nodded. "But Professor Blair said that it would... only get him killed and that she would go talk to Voldemort. She asked us to make sure Harry didn't try anything stupid but as soon as she was out of sight, he jinxed us."

The Headmaster contemplated for a short moment. "Where is Professor Kryeen now?"

The muggle-born took all her restrain to keep from fidgeting. "She went after him."

The old man stroked his beard thoughtfully. "If Professor Kryeen is indeed following Harry than there is little worry that harm will come to him for now. However we must not risk both of their healths to a group of dark wizards. Thank you for informing me Ms. Granger. May I assume Mr. Weasley has been informed prior to this?"

"Of course."

§

As the last Potter walked, he contemplated the item juggling between his fingers. Voldemort had sent it with the letter to confirm that he had indeed stolen away Ginny Weasley. It was a very simple, very sentimental item.

The bronze chain glittered in the twilight as he strode toward the ominous shadows in the valley. The lone charm was a thumb-sized golden replica of the snitch, pearl wings magicked to flutter slightly against the necklace. Green eyes filled with remorse as he remembered the day he gave it to her.

_"Nice work Harry!" She exclaimed, brushing the sweat-laden red locks from her forehead._

_"Er... yeah, thanks." He replied, distractedly. _

_The chaser quirked an eyebrow. "What's with you?"_

_The self-annotated hero rubbed a hand through his black hair nervously as he looked at the pretty, albeit dirty, girl._

_"Well when I was in Hogsmeade last week I just kinda saw this thing..." The boy-who-lived began nervously._

_His companion smirked teasingly. "This thing? **The **Harry Potter is all worried about 'this thing'?"_

_Despite himself, the older teen laughed and blushed a little. "Shut up Gin!"_

_"Then spill it!" His best friend's sister pretended to pout, hands on her hips._

_**I fight against Voldemort, fly 2,000 feet above the air, and have private lessons with a partially deranged immortal. I can do this! **The green-eyed wizard told himself. However, Death Eaters were looking quite nice about now. _

_"Well it is just a little thing but it is kind of nice and I thought—" **Fantastic, I'm the babbling-moron-who-lived.** _

_"Harry..." The Gryffindor 5th year began slowly. "Are you dying?"_

_**Yes! Ah... I'm melting...**_

_"No..." The seeker replied, baffled by her sudden question._

_"Kill someone?"_

_"...No,"_

_"Sleep with a banshee?"_

_"What?" He had every right to be completely defensive. What ludicrous question was that?_

_However the younger witch was smiling, hazel eyes filled with laughter. "Well then whatever it is, it can't be that bad now, can it?"_

_Grinning, the scarred boy felt almost all nervousness leave his system. So with a single deep breath and thankful that the sun was so bright in the deep blue sky and it was a clear, if cold day; he pulled out a necklace._

_"Ithoughthatyoumightlikeit." Almost all nervousness, was the key phrase._

_However Ginny was too tranfixed on the item that had been placed in her hand. The bronze tone of the chain complimented her auburn hair and fair skin tone. The tiny golden snitch at the end, fluttering lazily in her palm, glimmered in her eye's reflection._

_"Harry it's...amazing." The awe in her voice heated his cheeks, but a stupid smile was still pasted there._

_"I just thought you might like it."_

_The youngest Weasley looked thoughtfully at her friend before pulling the chain onto her neck and fastening it there. "I have a thank you present, but you have to close you eyes."_

_Giving her a bemused look, the chosen one shut both eyes and waited with a strange knot in his stomach._

_The gentle pressure of something smooth and light touched his lips._

"So, you actually came." A familiar, falsely velvet voice reached to him from the memories. An angry chartreuse gaze fell on the speaker.

"Lucius, you escaped. Too bad." The youth replied coldly.

An ugly sneer fell across his haughty palette. With a wave of pale fingers, two robed figures emerged from the trees.

"We are to take you to the Dark Lord. You will die tonight, Potter."

§

A/N: Come on, there had to be some underlying motive to Voldemort going after Ginny instead of Ron or Hermione... Oh, and let's also see if someone can catch another little plot bunny that these flashbacks and the letter mean! Review to save the writer from horrible AP classes!


	28. The Death of Night

§

_He kissed back instinctively, desperately. For a brief moment, the war was gone, the scars had healed,and duty was disbanded... And then it all came crashing back with a force. Harry tensed, and pushed himself away. _

_Breathless, Ginny looked up with confusion. "Harry?"_

_His thoughts went in a high of color and screams. But one coherent stream was visible. It was the red-head, lying dead under Voldemort's red gleam and emerald flash. _

_"Ginny... I... I can't." Potter stumbled over his words, backing away with dilated chartreuse eyes. _

_"Why can't you?" The chaser rose her voice, a strained smile on her face. "Your goddamn chivalry is dead! I don't need to be protected!"_

_But the seeker kept fumbling away, apologetic eyes never leaving her. "I can't be responsible for your death too. I won't... it would kill me."_

_The dark-haired boy turned then, and sprinted off; leaving the girl to stand there, watching after him. Grasping the locket, her amber eyes watched him with the feeling of a driver who plowed into a deer. Then looked back and saw it gambling away with a fatal injury. _

"Come with me." Weasley said softly as she snapped her memories shut for the volume of the present.

"What?!?" Aidan replied, not following her sudden train of thought after the long silence.

"Leave with me, when Harry comes." The young woman clarified, finally looking at him again with determination written all over her features.

The dirty blond blinked once before breaking out in bitter laughter. "Did you go crazy? I can't just leave. Hell, neither are you."

"I'm leaving with Harry." She stated firmly, a dangerous look for contradiction. "And you should come with me."

The older one rolled his eyes and snorted. "And why is that, Dr. W?"

"Because you don't belong here." Her bluntness still halted him.

The wizard narrowed his dark eyes. "Look this isn't some 'save-a-death-eater-day. I've told you before, I'm not turning against he-who-must-not-be-named. That's called suicidal. If you have those tendencies then I advise counseling."

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes and smile falsely with batting eyelashes. "Of course not; I wouldn't even have bothered if you were actually cut out to be a death eater."

"I—What the hell does that mean?" The man sputtered.

The Gryffindor 5th year gave a patient sigh, as though explaining why the sky was blue to a child. "You don't have it in you to be a decent death eater. Being a coward to protect your own life is worth something. But you'll come to a point where you will have done so many horrible things that all you want to do is die. Is that the future you want?"

Aidan narrowed his eyes at her rhetoric. "Why do you claim to know all this stuff? Death eaters—Harry Potter—the meaning of life? You're just a kid, even if you have faced... _him_!"

"I am fifteen, thank you very much." The captive stated firmly. "And my offer still stands. Professor Dumbledore can pardon you. Even if you don't work in the Order, I am sure he would help you."

The guard gave a hard smirk. "Not everyone is as stupid as you Ginny. The old man won't help me unless I give him something in return. That's the way the world is."

Her retort was sharp and well-directed. "And not everyone is as self-oriented as you, Aidan. Professor Dumbledore just likes to help people. That is all the reward he needs."

"If you believe that you _are_ stupid."

"You've said that before. I'll say it again, I'm smart. However I'm not like Dumbledore or Harry. I want something in return if you decide to get rescued with me."

"Oh yeah, and what is that?" The warlock teased.

"A new broomstick. My old one hinders me in Quidditch a lot."

"...You're a freak."

§

It was impossible to say who spotted who first. Gold met crimson and all chaos expelled in hair's breath. She leaped, knouter suddenly in hand. He drew his magic to the fore-front of his hand, thrusting it forward. Red, white, black, and yellow swarmed together in the dusk of the forest.

"Nice to see you again, Aduru." The vampire lord flashed his canines at her.

"This'll be the last time, Draeg!" The fire immortal screeched in return, shaving off a layer of back skin and spattering them both with a sticky substance. Darkling hissed at the feel of his own blood, but continued to grin sickly.

"Why are you here?" He asked lowly, narrowing his eyes to examine the shape of the other death dealer.

"To kill you." Kryeen snapped back, twisting her provocative weapon again.

His lean frame twisted away, catching the tip of the whip with the pointed blade.

"You taste differently." The black-eyed man breathed deep, filling his sensitive tongue with samples of the air.

The woman stiffened momentarily, slacking the knouter so she could pull it free.

"You taste... of worry...and...No!" With each ellipse his tone grew in cackling hysteria.

"Madman!" The Eposis attacked with her flame this time.

Her enemy only blocked with his arms, still laughing.

"You did it again, didn't you?" The crazed light in eyes the color of fresh spilled blood emphasized the cackles.

The pronged whip lashed out again, wrapping itself around the night creature's wrist and snapping the sword from his grasp. Draeg didn't struggle, but rather trembled with spasms of malicious laughter.

"You did! You filthy wench, you actually made the same mistake—twice!"

The bird-like eyes dilated, pupils elongated and sharpening within their frame.

"Who is it? The boy? Did you actually allow your heart to grasp a mortal again? When will you l—" The white-faced man was but short by a powerful kick shoved into his gut, causing blood to issue from his mouth. But he continued to ignore it for the sake of laughter.

"It is the boy. Well then, Blair you know what I am going to have to do. Our master does not approve of your love for mortals. In fact, you were sent here to eliminate all ties to your human past. Pity," Darkling paused, managing to strike the Aduru Eposis through the shoulder with his blade. More scarlet was added to the quickly coloring shadows.

"Fuck off!" The DADA teacher hissed dangerously, missing another strike with her knouter as he leaped into the air.

From his tree branch, Draeg gave the final call.

"I'll have to kill him than."

§

Harry followed the death eater, or rather the sway of his dark robe. His eyes felt too heavy to look properly upward.

_Ginny..._

It had been his fault, and he knew it, damn it! No one could convince him otherwise. Somehow Voldemort had found out about that tastefully sinful kiss and taken her.

_Be alright, please._

"You're so worried about your little girlfriend you can hardly walk straight, Potter." Malfoy sneered with a sharp glance back.

The boy-who-lived narrowed his eyes. "She's not my girlfriend. She is my best friend's sister."

A masked wizard walking beside Lucius spoke up in a silky baritone.

"Do you kiss all your best friend's sisters then, or was that your twin?"

A hateful, guilt-ridden glance met his back.

"What's that, cat got your tongue, Potter?" The blond aristocrat asked coyly.

"It's not nearly what he did to your face." The comment was suddenly hurled thanks to late sun-rays and early moonlight that decided to frame the criminal's face.

The once haughty, pure-blood features were marred with indents and deep scars. A long, diagonal chunk was missing from his forehead and a line split his lower lip in half. He could have competed with Moody for looks.

If possible, Lucius's face turned uglier. Hands trembling with rage dove into the robe for a wand. The teen celebrity felt his fingers itch for his own wand. Unfortunately, it was currently hiding in his escort's robes.

"You brat! I'll teach you some—"

"Lucius, no! He wants the boy unharmed." The second death eater commanded, turning around with a forceful air.

Still shaking, the pure-blood let out a snarl and shoved the instrument away.

Sensing that he was safe for now, the coal-haired boy decided to test his limits. Intelligent—no. Amusing—quite so.

"So what did happen to your face then?" The underage warlock baited lightly.

The Malfoy patriarch kept stomping ahead, apparently trying Snape's patented you-don't-exist method. The reluctant hero treaded after the two taller forms. The sky seemed to be getting brighter, somehow. As though the sun was bursting forth before the finale.

"Cat got you're—" The Gryffindor never got to finish his hook as the hated blond wheeled around, foaming.

"Your damn teacher raided our camp. I could see Dumbledore taking in animals, but monsters like her?"

"Hey, watch your mouth worm." Speak of the Devil. She was suddenly right in front of them, the cause of the sporadic light.

Lucuis was paralyzed as his partner began a disarming spell.

"I'm not in the mood." Blair snapped, her hair looking like woven copper in the dim light, reflecting from golden-bronze to dulled crimson.

With frightening lack of hesitation she went to work. Her powerful hands snapped the man's neck with an audible resound. The mask fell limply off and dark hair fell limply across glazing eyes. Without waiting for the other death eater to come out of his stupor, the DADA professor rounded on her student.

Harry could not fathom that look in her eyes for a moment—relief, anger, worry?

"Come on brat, let's go." Her tone was a burning whip which he took for another's sake.

"Not without Gin—" The seeker could not even complete his demand before an unnaturally warmed touch clamped his wrist and dragged him hastily through the black maze of trees.

"Damn you kid! You have to make this difficult, don't you?" Her voice was still scathing, hunting for blood.

"You came." Was all the 6th year could say before the breath was taken from him at the speed they ran.

§

Aidan was still mulling over his captive's words when two figures came into sudden sight.

"What the hell?" He murmured, turning to a suddenly tense witch.

"It's Harry... and Blair!" Her voice rose to ecstasy as the said people halted before the cave.

_The kid actually made it._ The death eater wondered, while some lesser part of his conscience growled at the saucy witch beside the celebrity.

"Brat, go now." The female spat, one burning eye of fierce yellow warning him of any intrusions.

Ignoring the possibly hostile tone of the older woman, Ginny turned to him.

"Coming?"

"Gin," Harry said softly, relieve flushing his face at seeing her safe.

"Oh alright." The blond man faked a sigh and stood beside his former prisoner.

"No! No more pathetic lifeforms!" The sexy one actually bared her teeth.

"Blair, it will just take more time to argue." Scar-face input after sharing a silent message with his best friend's sister.

_Can he be trusted?_

_I am sure he is harmless. I wouldn't put anyone in danger like that._

_I believe in you, so I'll put faith in him._

Cursing, the strange professor swiveled around. "Let's just go."

The small party exited the cave, sprinting for under a minute. The sun had completely faded, and an almost tangible night had swept over the forest. Even the bravest of the human trio felt there napes prickle in response to some ancient, looming force in the shadows of this nocturnal world. And then suddenly _he _appeared.

Draeg Darkling was a character that fed children nightmares between his handsome face to colorless skin, fathomless hair, and blood-colored eyes. Everything about him screamed the time old image of _vampire_. Even as the group stopped and everyone fished for their wands, the fear was not complete yet. It could not be, with a Professor Blair Kryeen crouching over them, giving some warning noise.

Then the king of darkness smiled, a haunting image to bear the iridescent fangs.

"His blood is mine Aduru. You cannot defeat me as long as you hold **it**. You are incomplete."

Harry looked, confused between the dialect. Abruptly, his teacher turned to face them, black slits in her eyes instead of the round balls of pupils.

"Run." She commanded with serious force.

The words didn't belong to her tongue, to her mouth. The wizard could only stand agape.

"Now!" The immortal added with heated emphasis, shoving the boy hard.

To Ginny, Blair gave directions. "The death eater camp is south of here. Any moment and they will hear of your escape, so you have to be fast. Travel east of the moon and make a long loop until you come to the edge of the forest. Go left at the gully and shoot off some sparks. It's close enough to the school and far enough from the slime."

It was her blood, Kryeen's blood, that choked all protest from the Weasley. With a slight nod, she gripped both male's wrists and began running off into the forest.

Waiting until they were taken by the trees, the Eposis faced her challenger with a feral grin.

"Now then..."

§

It was a while before the chaser felt his hand slip from her own, causing her to stop.

"We can't leave her." Potter said, determination and defiance written all over his face.

"Are you crazy? You heard the woman, we'll get killed if we go back!" The new wizard said, cocoa eyes bulging for exclamation.

Ignoring him in favor of his friend, the seeker pleaded with her to understand.

"Gin..."

"Harry, I know how you feel." The red haired witch began softly. "But this time... Blair was serious about us not turning back for her. I think we have to listen to her, for once. Besides, I have my doubts about whether or not she can die."

_"The key to being a death dealer is to have died once."_

The words found themselves somewhere into the hectic mind of the chosen one.

_She's immortal. She can't die._

But that **thing**... it had looked all too ready to rip her heart out.

"Besides that woman... Blair was it? She seemed to able to handle herself perfectly." The oldest brought up.

Reason was reawakening into the charcoal-haired youth as confused irises focused on the newcomer.

"Who are you?" It wasn't rude, but the exhausted flat of someone who has been through too much to currently worry about propriety. Funny thing was that etiquette was not on any of there minds at that moment.

"Aidan, a friend." The runaway death eater added with hesitation.

"We had a nice chat before you arrived Harry. He shouldn't be any trouble." The youngest put in at a wary glance from her comrade.

"No, I hardly think that coward is what you should be worried about." A cold, trilling voice snared the party.

Instinctively, the boy-who-lived turned around. The thoughtless action probably saved his life, as a piston of red light shot a breath's away from him.

Two robed figures were menacing in the gloom. White masks and dark capes gave them away even before the traitor's stuttering exclamation.

"DEATH EATERS!"

"We finally found you, boy." The taller figure approached, nearly gliding beneath folds of shimmering oil.

Years of desperate situations and intensive Quidditch practices had made Harry Potter very fast at addressing and acting in life-death mode. So without another moment, he grabbed the wrists of both Ginny and the man. Silent magic shot a disarming charm at the advancing death eater before he kicked up his feet and called to his paused friends.

"RUN!"

§

It had become something of a dance between them. Her erotic movements, his handsome gestures. Hit, dodge, knouter, block, blade, cross-over kick, roll, hit... on and on it went through the growing night.

His sword and her whip fought for dominance, the iron prongs rung around its hilt as the edge continued to press toward her collarbone.

"You'll die tonight." Blair hissed through clenched teeth, enjoying the adrenaline and thoughtlessness of a battle.

Draeg laughed in response. "You may be the most powerful in Spirit, little Aduru, but without the completion of the ring you can never defeat a death dealer."

The weapon broke through, piercing just left of her heart and spurting blood. Bird-like eyes never winced. Tightening her ligaments, the arms enclosed in front, forcing the offending blade to recoil.

"I don't need your fucking power trips. I'm strong on my own accord." A strong punch managed to find its way past the vampire's guard, pushing him into momentum before catching his fall.

White fingers wiped the blood from his mouth. Darkling charged again, cutting for the chest and missing when a powerful kick redirected his blow. Both sprawled away from each other and panting, the lord of night began to talk again.

"Aduru Eposis: Fire Bird. You were blessed with the gift of flight by Astor, but your spirit is that of fire. Your soul is the light, giving birth to the flame. By killing Seraphina, you achieved your element. However, the third link—your emotion... you still don't have it."

Draeg was forced to leap as the old language sprung beautifully from her lips, causing a sudden combustion of the air near him. In response, he molded his mouth to accept the ancient words, creating stakes with the very shadows. One scraped her side, but Kryeen shrugged it off and continued her assault.

"And you never will. You continue to cling to your love for mortals, Aduru. That is your flaw."

Draeg flipped his blade around and thrust straight into he flesh of the offending person. Taking the sword through her stomach, Blair twisted her knouter expertly, managing to wrap it around a white neck, speckled with royal blue blood drops in some unholy artwork.

"Seduction—the force of the fire entity. It's the reason your body was molded into aroused shapes. But as long as you hold onto your human heart, you can never be the temptress... It's a vulnerability that should have been carved out of your flesh years ago." The dark death dealer laughed even as the barbs pierced his throat.

"DIE!" The once-human screeched, feeling her control slipping until the knouter contracted around her enemy's throat. Red eyes blazed with inner madness, black hair had become a raven hue from the blue blood it was moped with. A fading trickle of the life-sustaining liquid wound down from his mouth, showing brackish fangs. He was the embodiment of night—fear, mystery, and fallen grace.

The prongs cut through the jugular.

The DADA professor knew he was dead before she felt his body stiffen. The gateway opened to the side of her eyes, gray waters cascading around a soul that had evaded it for so long.

Releasing the weapon, the firecracker dropped to the ground, panting and bleeding. But a content victory still lingered in the wild light of her eyes. That is, until she heard the cry.

It wasn't loud or even tangible. Rather it was a deep summon of one soul to another. An ability she knew could only belong to one person.

"Brat..." The weakened immortal muttered, hulling herself up again.

The night was waiting.

§

A/N: Hehe, cliffhanger! Oo, and if you love me then leave me a pm message since I re-edited all my chapters and ff won't let you normally review ;-( Luv ya all!


	29. Before the Dawn

§

"Shit!" Ginny cursed, dodging another bright strip of light.

Sending her own spell into an oncoming figure, she shouted over her shoulder. "We can't fight them all! We have to get out!"

Aidan proved to be a better duelist than she had first supposed, which in reflect, wasn't much.

"Thank you for the update, Queen of Obviousness." The oldest one shot in response along with a stunning spell.

Harry rolled out of the way of another spell, which clipped his ear and drew blood. Keeping in the small-target motion, the wizard pushed himself toward his companion. Unfolding, the youth stood up with speed.

"I'll distract them. You and whatshisface get out of here." His verdant eyes held a firm-jawed warning, and an underlying of fearful affection.

"No, Harry—" Her protest was cut short when they both scattered away from a magical binding shot between them, reaching for a captive.

The sandy-haired warlock fell heavily against the ground, nose bleeding as he looked blearily up at the two kids.

"Argue later! We have bigger p—shit!" The traitorous death eater swore as a red, scythe-like spell split his left shoulder, spattering blood along the cropped valley grass.

Muttering under his breath, the reluctant albeit honest hero, raced forward with wand held high.

"_STATUAMORTIS!_" Potter cried, weaving his wand in a large swooping arc.

The robed figure being who was looming over the fallen one soon found himself hit square by a distorted gray shape. Within a blink, the colorless substance spread throughout his body and soaked him of all color. Without looking, the caster knew his lips would be blue by now.

Aidan did blink now, in surprise and awe. "Is he dead?"

Scar face gave an impatient shake. "No, but you have to get out of here. Take her-"

He jabbed a finger to a Weasley, who was currently casting a disarming spell on her third death eater.

"-and run for it. I'll give you both cover."

The older man stood up, nodding and preparing to run over to the girl that had veered his life when another though passed by.

"Should we wait for you to send out a signal?"

_This... boy? His eyes, they are so old... and filled with suffering. Is he truly a child?_

The aforementioned orbs shadowed defiantly. "No. If I come back it'll be with Blair."

He didn't mention what would happen if he didn't come back.

The older wizard gave hesitated only a moment further before turning back and running toward the witch.

"I'll protect her."

The boy-who-lived hadn't asked for a promise, but he was grateful for one. A small smile tugged at his lips.

"Good... She deserves someone to."

His soft spoken words met with empty air, quickly replaced by white light as another spell bounced beside him, cutting a groove into his ribcage as it passed.

The seeker grunted in pain as his own blood joined the mingle. Reacting quickly, he counterattacked.

"_Expelliarmus_," The cardinal light issued from his command and the death eater flew feet away.

Throwing a quick glance behind him, Harry spotted Aidan overpowering the lean girl to drag her away from the fight. Hazel met Cocoa which lingered on Emerald.

The chosen one began to draw an intricate pattern with his wand. If it lined the sky it would have formed a kind of upside-down dragon.

"_DISTORCIASM_!"

The short, fried grass around them suddenly sprung to life. Wild fronds grew into vibrant claws upon the opposing party. The crackled earth bucked up, wavering like water and spewing rocks. The sky grew thick and white, making it seem an pale blindness had fallen.

_Stay safe both of you._

Voldemort's servants could be heard scurrying around, bumbling and shouting. Faintly out in the night, a pretty voice's cries were carried away into the hidden night. Harry turned and began running back toward the forest. He was not waiting for the enemy to figure out how to undo his spell.

"Hey is anyone th—Omph!"

"Harry...No, Aidan_ let go!_"

"Who the hell is that? Macnair?"

"Yeah, what did that kid do?"

"Brat, shut it! Aren't you the one always preaching faith in that kid?"

"This is different! Aidan, I can help. Just put me down! I don't need to be coddled!"

"Everyone stop panicking! This is just an illusionary spell!"

" A fake? Oh fuck, that brat is so dead after this!"

"You'll only be in his way. He kept trying to protect you and no one can fight like that. You're a hindrance, Ginny... Just, trust him."

"STOP moving I said! Let me dispel it you idiots!"

"Well then go ahead and do it!"

_"WACCIM!" _A voice hissed, and the sudden fog lifted.

The ground stopped churning and the grass gleamed with yellow innocence back up at them.

"Where did he go?" One of the disgruntled mask-wearers demanded.

"He probably went after the other two, let's go!" Another wizard hissed.

"Ha, as though you could actually catch me!" Their target's voice bounded from the trees, amplified through magic.

"Let's get him, stupid bastard!" A witch sneered darkly.

"What about the other two?" This was the tone of the executioner Macnair.

"Leave them. The Dark Lord wants only Potter. The other two are of no relevance." The leader, the same wizard who had dispelled the illusion, spoke harshly.

No one disagreed as the swarm of black descended upon the trees.

Harry was searching for Blair who was looking for him. Life's little ironies are rarely in favor of those sentenced to them. However Blair Kryeen did not like to be the butt of any god's whim. And boy, did she have a temper.

§

His moccasin clad feet made no sound as they touched the earth. Their pale blue fabric soiled in the run of midnight azure and lighting crimson. Deep, fair eyes looked out over a shock of white hair. The visitor was garbed in a simple white undershirt and brilliant cerulean jacket. Jeans held his thin legs and non-existent hips. A faint breeze ruffled through his locks and sent the jacket ends splaying. The dark backdrop gave the man an almost glowing look, with his simple pale monochrome.

"It was her." His voice was low and breathy, smooth and whispering. The tongue that danced with the wind around it.

He appeared to be talking to no one, or perhaps the corpse at his feet. The darkly handsome creature had once vibrant eyes the color of fresh spilled blood and hair an impenetrable black against colorless skin. His only physical shift from the undead to the twice killed was the unfocused sheen to his irises, and the even more pronounced pallor to his skin.

Making a hand-sign by bringing both index and middle fingers up to touch and folding the other fingers down, the living being pressed his lips gently to the tip of his tallest finger. Bringing it in a sweeping movement over the corpse, the wind suddenly picked up and began to disintegrate it. As the current relaxed again, the vampire was no more than charred dust upon its whim.

"Rest now, Draeg." The man spoke. In features, he could seem no older than twenty-five. However his eyes and distant expression spoke of eons in suffering and loss. Years of pain combat only by numbness.

As he turned, the breeze seemed to move with with, churning in the direction he looked out at.

"Blair..." The pale being called softly, seeming to be almost to beautiful to be human in his ethereal sense. It was only the blood staining his shoes that offset the train of divinity.

"The flame in your heart, it has rekindled. You have found purpose again." There were _such _thoughts gleamed in those orbs, yet no emotion.

"_He_ will not care. Death will come to capture you again young one." At this point the stranger truly was talking to himself, and his words seemed to be carried by the air and into all things that breathed it. In some form of pacification, he breathed in and out slowly and evenly. He inclined his elegant face toward the sky, momentarily shutting his eyes.

"But he cannot have you, not again if he ever did." The irises opened again, identical hue to the celestial realm they were looking through. Some voice was speaking quietly back through the breeze, plucking at his eardrum with its secrets. He didn't blink at the message, not give any movement, but somehow his distanced aura discreetly shifted,

In an unhurried, sure-stepped pace, the man walked along the dead, bloodied grasses. His features never changed as he walked to the edge of the forest. A somewhat dimmed moon fingered over the land, mourning its loss. As it cast quick reflex upon the trees and creatures of night, the white form seemed to be immune to all darkness. He cast no shadow and made no sign as his unfathomable gaze once again shifted upward and his legs halted their movement. Reading the air that cascaded around his fine jawbone, the immortal took a step upward, as if reaching for the empty air. It held solid for him, and soon the lone individual was climbing upon the empty sky in his own bask.

"You are our last hope, young one. You are your unbroken spirit."

§

Harry didn't know how long he had been running or which way he went. The forest was all a mass of crooked stumps and gnarled branches contorting into frightening shadows to snare him. His body was screaming like a banshee for rest, but the seemingly circle of death eater voices kept the boy moving. Soon movement became thoughtless, just an action he didn't stop and all reason fled before weariness and fear. However the night was unrelenting and unforgiving to the desperate youth in its midst.

"There—I saw him! He went that way!" A woman's throaty voice made the celebrity veer abruptly left, scudding along dirt and a thorny vine.

"Where? Oh just shut up and go after him!" The leader snapped, irate. Even with the lighted wand tips that came with _Lumos_, the darkness was heavy and the natural sounds of the forest made hearing useless. The tracking spell they had tried was sent bounding right after them, and any attempt at bigger light would allow their prey time to escape. It had been hours, and now even if they managed to get Potter back to their lord, they would pay. However to fail allowed certainty of death.

Dark hair was forced to meet dirt as he fell flat to dodge a sharp jet of red light.

"Aha—there he is! There he is! Mancair, Colloway, Dugart!" The caster called to his friends in an excited frenzy. Footsteps crushed the small brush as the wizards raced for the voice that had given such wonderful news.

Cursing, the sixteen-year old withdrew his own wand from the pocket of his robe and aimed over his shoulder as he shakily stood again, ready to resume running.

"_Statuamortis," _The Gryffindor whispered quickly, drawing his wand through the pattern. The familiar gray, shapeless substance ejected from the wooden tip and were flung at the unlucky witch. She cursed, then garbled, and finally keeled over clutching the spot where it had touched to fall still.

However she had already alerted her comrades and their steps were easily heard. Without wasting another moment, the seeker sped back into the trees and avoided the convergence of tones.

_Just keep going. Just keep going._ The mantra repeated itself behind worn eyes the hue of fresh-mowed grass. He didn't even know why anymore. It was only something he _had _to do, no matter what.

The hunter's sound was approaching, blindly hacking at the trees and creatures after its elusive prey. It in turn, kept running and dodging around his enemies. Ginny and Aidan were long gone, and who knew where Blair was?

The young man was forced to give more attention to his laborious breathing then he would have liked. His body no longer produced sweat, but the beads that still clung on him were chilling his body in the cool night air. It made him almost want to shiver despite the burning heat his muscles felt. Dark tresses plastered to his sun-kissed face, and the standard school robe was torn into insignificant pieces. He was reaching his limit.

However another spout of scarlet got the underaged wizard moving on his feet again, much clumsier this time.

However as soon as the boy-who-lived pivoted around to escape he soon discovered that Voldemort's servants had him cornered in a circle of black robes and white masks.

"We have you know boy." The leader stepped forward, wand at the ready. "Surrender."

_THERE! _In Harry's half-sedated mind he spotted a gap between the death eaters. To weak to scream, the famous tragedy barreled himself right into the empty space.

Too bad for him it was the edge of a cliff.

§

She used to love the feel of flight, she knew. In some past life, it had been hear only joy. To Blair, there were three lives she had been a part of. The first was some distant person's memory, the tale of Ally and Blayne. And in flames that one had ended and given way to merciless searching and hunger where she was unaware of even Daemon. The feel of wind resisting her skin had been one of the few good aspects of that time, a brief moment of freedom. Somehow she has unknowingly stumbled onto the third—a time were the heart was reborn and with it came strength... and weakness.

_I refuse._ The fire immortal thought strongly as her bird-like irises scanned for sight of the raven-haired boy while her senses stretched toward his distinct aura. She wondered vaguely if he knew his color was green. Not the same brilliant shade as his eyes, but rather a darkened cameo color. Green for life, green for youth. Dark for pain, dark for fear.

_I refuse to let someone else die. _The death dealer knew it to her core that it was true. Once, all her power and efforts had been in vain. She had lost, and it had killed her. Now, there was a second-chance. Another person, a young human who had sat down in her heart and refused to leave her to the fire that burnt her piece by piece. He had weakened her, she knew; but he had also brought her back to life. This time, with all her power and will, she would not fail. Kryeen _couldn't _fail. It would kill her. Permanently.

A sudden tinge in her senses brought a quick end to her pondering. Golden eyes dilated to cut through the dark foliage of the forest. Blair caught sight of the semi-circle of robed and masked figures.

_If they've touched him, I'm going to have more than a little fun with those worms. _The woman kept scanning for his smaller, more significant form. Aduru would admit she was a sadist. Ally hadn't been, she had hated pain. But as a death-dealer, her spirit had a craving for blood and death. It was _designed_ in each of them, and only years of learning to control it allowed any normal interaction with life.

Catching sight of movement, Eposis watched from a distance as her pupil blindly ran into the hole. Did he not see the ominous darkness of the gully before him?

_Shit! _The DADA professor remembered all to distinctly just how fragile human bones were. Taking a dive, her bright form descended straight into the gully after him.

"STOP HER!" One of the worms cried, catching sight of her glowing red body.

A few spells bounced around her, missing. The fiery individual wasn't worried. Their petty magic could do little to her ancient power. However a well-aimed green light caught her straight in the back of the neck, where a horrible bird-shaped scar resided. It was dumb luck that he had hit there. Dumb, fucking, luck.

Golden eyes widened before shutting, and the dive became a plummet as she evened with the person she had been rescuing.

§

Harry was more than surprised. His mind froze as he tumbled down and over the ledge, falling into the darkness. His thoughts were a white pallet, giving no way out of certain death. And then there was distant shouting and a flash of fire-like brightness. Suddenly she was falling right beside him, her flesh baring long gouges and brilliant eyes closed.

"Blair!" The black-haired wizard cried, reaching a hand against the wind-pressure to shake her shoulder.

_I have to think of a way to get us both out of this. There has to be SOMETHING! _Potter thought desperately, praying for some inspiration.

"Wake up you stupid git!" The teen shouted shaking harder.

_I swore not to let a friend die, not to watch them get hurt._ Damn it, he had a scar on his left arm promising that!

Somehow, in frustration and desperation, the seeker called out another name.

"ALLY!"

Golden eyes shot open so fast it almost shocked him. Instinctively taking in the situation, the Aduru grabbed his small figure around the waist and called forth a gift long given.

Ivory wings expanded from her shoulder blades. They curled down to her ankle, great feathery things. Steeling herself, Kryeen expanded the wings against the harsh wind current and flipped both her and the brat around.

Harry gave a shout of surprise as he found himself suddenly barreling the other way, heading toward a rocky protrude.

_I can't fly us both in this state. Damn kid should lose some weight! I'll have to land somewhere!_

Her inhuman eyes locked on a hidden cave just below the outstanding rock. Locking her muscles, she aimed for there.

"B-Blair we're heading for a crash!" The heartthrob managed to choke out.

"Shut up." The fire-haired creature hissed, tilting down just so the brush of her back was skinned on the cave wall. Once in the cavern, the witch flipped them around again, so the much more breakable body was above. Hers, on the other hand, got the pleasure of skidding roughly to a stop.

The cavern was damp and gray walls covered with green wines and algae. The unpleasant floor felt of slime. Or was it blood? Both intruders didn't move for a moment, just panting together in the darkness.

_Damn, I'm bleeding. _The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had not forgotten what her immortal blood could do. It wasn't pretty. Roughly pushing the smaller form off of her, the exotic beauty hissed in pain as she sat up.

"You saved us... You flew!" Her student stated suddenly, his voice lowered due to the gloom of their surroundings.

"Yeah, so what kid? That was the stupidest shit you've pulled yet!" Golden eyes peered out of him in the darkness.

It was then that the seeker caught sight, from her unearthly light, the sparkling puddle of blood his rescuer was sitting in.

"You're hurt." There was remorse in his voice.

_It's my fault. _

"We have better things to worry about." The death dealer stared flatly, forcing her body to stand once more.

"You shouldn't move." The sixteen year old stated with a tone of argument.

"Brat don't argue." The taller individual stated simply, while turning toward the depth of the cave.

"There is something in here."

Following his professor's lead, the chosen one stepped further into the darkness. It was only a few steps of heavy breath and oppressive quiet until the two found themselves faced with rock.

Blair ran her fingers across it. "There's writing here... it's not human though."

The pit of his stomach fell out. "Give me some light."

Glancing questioningly at the green-eyed youth, she snapped her fingers. A flame danced along the index digit, acting like a candle.

Using the light, Harry found his mouth dry as he read the inscription.

"I—It's the gateway to another cavern, connected to the Chamber of Secrets... It's Salizar's original tomb, where the Guardian came from. Only... only someone with Slytherin's mark can enter."

Her flaming eyes studied the stone door once more, looking a strange notch.

"Mark... like reading Parselmouth?"

Before the young man had a chance to reply, the powerful immortal had grabbed his hand and jammed it into the notch.

"What are you—" The rock surface slid open.

And the floor slid out from under them.

§

A/N: Hehe, I do love cliffies! Oh and thanks to everyone who Pm-ed me—I feel so loved! As incentive for more people to send a message: **ANYONE WHO LEAVES A PM GETS ANY QUESTION OF THERE'S ANSWERED!** I don't care if it is an explanation to the symbolism or who dies at the end. If you pm me, I'll answer the question. Luv ya all and see you in a week or so!


	30. Tale of Blayne and Ally

§

She opened her eyes, and all that greeted her was stones and candlelight. Soft, wide, amber eyes blinked and re-focused.

"Awake finally, huh?" A voice issued from the shadows. It was scratchy, hazed, and frightening.

She shrunk away, only to find shackles on her wrists and ankles. Fear dilated her pupils.

"W-what's going on?" Her small, bell-like tone questioned.

The man faced her now, a pallet of darks and shadows in the dim light. It seemed like he may have been a handsome man once ago, but something—perhaps life, had stolen his looks with haggard lines and intelligent, cruel eyes. His well-shaped lips twisted into some sort of wretched smile.

"You have become mine." Her captor replied, taking deliberate steps forward.

The small figure gazed up, terrified. "N-no! I have a mommy and a daddy! What have you done with them? Mommy! Daddy! Help me please!"

The man raised his palm and an audible snap rang in the silent aftershock. The child's eyes filled with tears, and her petite fingers stroked the now-bleeding area of her cheek where he had hit her. Roughly, the taller individual bent down to tilt her face toward him.

"You are mine now. You have no name, no family, no soul. You are mine."

Her ebony locks churned fiercely as tear speckled out of her innocent eyes.

"You're wrong! I have a name, and a mommy and a daddy! My name is—" Smack, his fist had burned her to the floor this time.

Her captor bent down and hulled into a sitting position by her small shoulder, using the other hand to force her tear-ridden face to gaze into his own darkly attractive one.

"You'll forget them soon enough because you never had them. You are mine, little one. My weapon."

Dropping her shoulder, the man jabbed her side with a long needle. The girl's body stiffened, her pupils widened and eyes hazed, face registering shock. And then she fell limp into the hands of the stranger. He brought his mouth beside her ear.

"_Forever_."

§

There was pain. It wasn't the feel of being quartered or having your love walk away. It was both and more. It wasn't a toxin, it was a manipulator. She knew pain—no senses, no thoughts, no _self_. Worse yet, it didn't release her into numbness after a time as most extremities will. Instead, it fluctuated parts and degrees just so her nerves or heart or mind, whatever it was methodically torturing couldn't adjust to the brutality. There was no time, or space—no awareness of anything. It was the moon—pushing and pulling her ego. The pain wrought on her body would plunge it besides death's colorless gates, but the sadism of the concoction would always yank her back, wounding anew. It was physical, mental, and emotional; or perhaps only one to the extreme that it had to over-pour onto the others. Too aid to the severity of torment, there was such small experience in dealing with pain to the subject.

Life gives pain and an individual doesn't know what to do with it. But slowly, we begin to receive, manipulate, and release our suffering. Sometimes we won't heal from a blade, but we learn rather to live around it. Adaptation, the ability to press forward, is our great strength to face the cruelties of the world. Children have no notion of this because they are still being coddled from the world, and so the need to adapt has yet to manifest itself. Her conscious had no way to release of take on the hurt. It was all-consuming, and breaking. There was little chance she would awaken from the agony. There was no way that she would awake the same.

§

She did awake, though it couldn't be decided if it was fortunately or unfortunately. The pain was dormant, lingering in her cells and core as it felt, some remnant of a storm. The child shifted, able to move her body once ago. Amber eyes widened at the shackles and dim room that seemed an age ago.

"What happened?" The girl asked softly into the gray depths.

However he appeared to answer, from some place in the shadows. Her imagination decided that he was a monster of some kind that was a part of the darkness—it went with his black heart.

"So you survived; you are a special one." The monster spoke, eyes gleaming.

His hand stretched forward, and his victim shrunk away as far as the chains would allow, whimpering. However, he continued until his fingers were under chin, titling it up to inspect the cute, fearful features. He ran down her arms, leg, back, and stomach. Then he checked her pulse by the base of her neck. All the while his captive shivered and bit back tears at his touch. It wasn't provocative, but rather questioning. She was not a specimen for lust to him, but an item to be examined. Finishing his physical, a malicious smile spread upon his lips.

"Ah yes, you are the special one. We'll begin training tomorrow so your body doesn't undo itself and die out like the last one." He stood, dark hair falling momentarily over his pale face. Five steps and he was out the door, closing it behind him.

_Training?_ The prisoner wondered, looking at her own hand for changes.

§

The next day he took away sight. In the cell, she found that there was no time—she had no sky or watch to tell it by, and no space—she was bound to one wall and had no means of exploring her prison. However there was a limited awareness in the human. It came from what she perceived from the gloomy depths, the feel of chains on her skin, the sound of his footsteps, and sometimes the far-off smell of fire.

That morning? Perhaps, he came in and suffocated the lone torch with his hand, not caring about the burn. The cell was now a total darkness, an unadjustable one. You see, most people believe that mortal eyes can adjust to complete darkness to see. However, the eye works by capturing light waves, and sending them up to the brain to be sorted into colors and shapes by the frequency. When there is truly no light, there is no vision.

The girl blinked rapidly, trying to see anything while she called out in slight desperation.

"S-stop that! I know you're here!"

There was no reply, and a pregnant pause filled the room that was asphyxiating in the black silence. And then a bare sound that resounded loud in the nothingness—a step and a swing.

She choked, not sure if she was blinded by pain, but feeling the warm liquid seep down her back and the wound grow from its place. He stepped closer, putting his hand in the hole and yanking the weapon out. The child retched dry from pain.

"You'll live." His cold voice stated simply, and repeated the action.

Hazel eyes were widened, pupils dilated, and filled with tears. Drops of water and blood descended somewhere to the floor. Unless the stranger had broken gravity too; who knew?

Again and again in this timeless world he repeated the action. However when she began to become numb from blood loss, he changed weapons. The other one had sliced the skin. This one merely beat upon it, going straight through to the bones. As he beat the child, a few cracks punctured the air and her cries were stifled from lack of air. And then, without pretense, his steps retreated and the door shut. She collapsed in a heap of blood.

§

He came and went a handful of times. Always the same, torturing her until she was sure she would die, then retreating and leaving her to the minor shock that somehow she continually drew breath and heart beat. However as he progressed, the girl became less resistant and weaker from more then loss of blood and agony—hunger.

He stepped through the doorway again without ceremony, only her sensitive ears picked it up. Something warm and slick was thrown at her, splattering a liquid into her face. She blinked it away, using careful hands to wipe it from her face.

"It's food." The torturer said with almost carelessness.

The child set about it with a fierceness. She tore and ate the strange item, feeling the sweet, almost metallic, liquid burn down her throat and the salty flesh rip open between her needy teeth and claws. He waited for some reason, until she was done. And then he laughed, and the hostage was afraid again.

"Now you really are my monster." Once the maddening fit had passed, gloating in his voice.

The prisoner made no sound, but he felt the need to satisfy her silent curiosity.

"That thing you ate... was a human."

He left and her eyes went wide and she vomited.

_No! No! I'm not a monster! That wasn't a person, it couldn't be! People don't eat people! _

_What if it was mommy or daddy? What if it was someone nice?_

There was a banshee like screech in his wake.

§

More time had passed... or had it? The girl didn't keep track anymore. There was a point, though, that she realized her voice had not been used in a while.

_I wonder if monsters can still talk?_

Five steps announced her keeper and the jingle of the weapon in his hand.

"I love them." Her voice was small and throaty from lack of use.

He paused.

"Mommy and daddy... I can't remember their faces all the time, but I know I love them." There was a level of defiance in her whisper now.

The man's aura filled the air like a volcano.

"Shut up you little wretch!" He howled finally, running at her and digging whatever was in his hand through her little body again and again.

"You're one of t_hem_! You don't love your parents! You don't deserve to have parents! You are my weapon!"

His screaming, her blood, and the empty space was filled over. And then the male stopped, panting for breath and sneering at the broken body on the floor. He walked out, calling once back.

"I'm not sure you'll live through that one."

§

She saw the gray gates again, and felt them pull her towards them. Slowly, but surely, the tall spires opened up for her. The river she was floating on drained of color as she passed through, allowing the current to drive her towards death. Once past, she felt a level of release and calmness. It was over.

And then something happened. A thin thread of color wound around her wrist, pulling her away from the current and holding her from going deeper into death.

_Let me die._ She begged it miserably. _Please just let me die._

But the cord could not or would not obey. Instead it tensed and pulled her harder through the water, like a fish on a reel. Unable to fight, the spirit watched with filling dread as the string brought her closer to the wonderful, artsy gates she had passed through. And then in a burst of sparks and lights, it reopened the spiraling beaks and abstract bottoms. She went through the gate, back from death.

There was no release.

§

Pain became feeling. It was a remnant of humanity that she clung to. Defiance spouted from captivity. The hostage could not be released. If death would not free her no one would. However, she could give her keeper a hell of a time. That was all she could find left for her purpose. That was all there was.

Memories were faded into vague things, and sleep was no longer needed. Time never existed and there only _was_.

The first time he brought her a person to kill, she refused. He broke her bones and ripped her skin, and even hung her to a wall and stretched out her muscles and tendons past the limit. The girl cried out, but refused to kill them. So the man released her in the cell with them, and waited until she grew hungry.

Hardly human, the creature still refused to kill. She was black, but not that black. Murder would make her unredeemable. However the human in her cell did not seem to feel the same way. After nearly two weeks without food, the being crawled forward and proceeded to try and kill her. Indignant and hurt by her lone companions gesture, the captive killed him. That day she discovered two new things.

Killing could be a thrill; it could cause feeling too. Humans are selfish creatures, and there was no remorse in killing them.

Her diet was soon consisting of living prisoners who were too blind to see the predator chained to a wall.

§

"Why?" Most of the time defiance was conveyed in the unwillingness to cry out against the atrocities committed on her.

However as another needle went into her side, she found a raspy sort of voice was still in her. The man and her knew each other in madness, and so he answered.

"I need a weapon. There is no use for a weak tool."

Whatever was pumped in her began to turn her blood. However other toxins had been pumped into her before. The prisoner ignored it.

"Why?" She found that repeating the same word made talking easier.

The creature also found that sight was unnecessary. She could feel his aura now, read his emotions and signs with some sixth sense. Like now, the captive knew her antagonist was grinning.

"To kill someone."

"I kill already." The last part came with a growl.

"My son... You will kill my son."

§

There had been no gender, no thought, no _humanity_ before _he_ came. He wasn't the one who tortured her daily, nor was he a fearful prey. This creature was quiet, bold.

"Shit, where did he came them? I have to find the antidote or else Daemon will—" The human stopped, apparently aware of the blood-thirsty glare even in the darkness.The chained life gave a growl. However, instead of running in a panic, this mortal stood still before walking cautiously toward the noise. The growl became louder, hungrier. Soon she could reach his flesh and...

There was light. The weapon screeched in agony at the thing that flickered on. Water ran from the eyes from the blinding pain. Quickly as it came, the burning light went out. Now the beast was angry, pulsating at her bindings to rip the throat out of whatever had done that to her. However the horrible man was still out of her reach.

"He's done it again... that bastard." The stranger spoke with quiet anger. "Don't worry, I'll come back for you. I promise."

It snarled in response, still trying to claw out at him. The human simply crept out through her door, taking the five steps and then vanishing.

§

The next time he came it was right after a kill. Fresh bodies and blood lined the floor. The creature could feel his disgust. Turning up from the meal, the predator snarled at this fragile little man who didn't fear her.

"You shouldn't kill people to eat, you know." His voice was softer, lighter than the other man's.

"Next time I'll bring you food, okay." He stepped closer to the thing, causing it to lunge out in attack.

The shackles tightened and strained, but held tight and it collapsed at the floor, missing barely.

The stranger paused. "You're not used to me yet. Then I'll stay until you are."

And so the two sat in the cell among dead bodies for a time. Then the strange human slipped through her door again.

§

The visitor must have known when her keeper came and went, for he always came safely after and left safely before. He did not approach, but rather sat in the cell and spoke words it could hardly understand. Slowly though, it stopped growling and snarling every time. And when the man brought different food then it had before, throwing it over to the wall; it ate. As some unspoken treaty, the weapon stopped killing the humans brought into the cell. The torturer never knew though; because the stranger would let them out before he came.

The beast hardly knew why it was doing this instead of killing. But its curiosity fed off the change of pace. After all, life had been so monotonous before then, so why not?

§

At one time, the visitor stepped toward the killer. It had been beaten worse then usual, and movement was very restricted. In response to his approach, the animal gave a faint growl and shrunk back. He continued forward, with some tinge to his aura the creature didn't recognize.

"You were human once, weren't you?" The voice seemed to know for itself.

"He did this to you. But it's alright—I can heal it. Just... don't be afraid."

The thing's knowledge of the words was vague, but the tone was soothing and so as his warm hand touched down, only a faint hiss was heard. However he did remove the pain with something sticky on his fingers.

"When you're ready, I'll set you free." He whispered.

§

Things were coming back to the monster, slowly. Words... thoughts... the became more comprehensible.

"Why?" It was a hiss of a voice, hardly passing for speech.

But the visitor understood, he stopped his work on the wounds in amazement.

"You can still talk?"

"Yes," It answered in the same half-voice.

The man was smiling, it knew. " Well then, I guess I should answer. I'm doing this because the person who did this to you also experimented on my brother. He was a failed experiment though, so it wasn't this bad... I thought he would stop or else I would have come sooner."

Another thing strange to the murderer was the aura of this human. So many spectrums it could not understand.

"W-who?" A little blood issued from the parched lips at that word.

"Easy, you'll do more damage." The stranger felt the throat for wounding as he replied.

"I am Blayne."

§

"Blayne," It asked one time, much better at speech then before. "What am I?"

The man was eating with the monster, sitting beside it without a tinge of fear. Another unidentifiable fluctuation of his aura occurred. There was no name the predator could put on them, but they were become regular enough to recognize.

"You were human once, and I think you can be human again."

The creature stayed silent for a while, tearing at the thing he called 'bird'.

"I ate humans. I killed. He says that I am a tool."

Blayne was quiet for a moment.

"Don't believe everything that bastard says." His voice was quiet, but angry. "You are more human than he will ever be."

The captive stayed quiet a moment longer, trying to decipher the words.

"I want out."

It could feel the man turn toward her, studying her without sight.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes." The weapon replied. "I want out."

Blayne stood. "Tomorrow then. When I come, we will escape."

§

The first thing to do was get rid of the shackles. To save time, Blayne merely severed the chains from the wall.

"We'll get them off you later." He promised.

He put something around her eyes, though it didn't change anything in the darkness.

"That will protect your vision from light. You'll have to wear it until your eyes adjust."

The prisoner didn't complain.

He looped something around it's neck.

"This will help me guide you. Just follow the pull."

The predator complied, and felt a wonderful release as it took the five steps and went through the door. The going was noiseless and slow, and the monster knew they were avoiding the other man. Suddenly, Blayne stiffened. There were noises.

"What is that?" It was the cold voice of the keeper.

"RUN!" Her rescuer commanded, pulling on the chord.

Obeying, the weapon sprinted beside the other man, hearing her torturer follow after them. There was only running and following the sway of the leash through the passages until suddenly the ground below was no longer hard and smooth, but wet, prickly, and uneven. It crackled under feet and strange calls could be heard in the air. The only thing keeping the new animal from hurtling away at the newness was the secure collar, keeping her tied to the familiar. They didn't stop running for a while. When they did, he almost fell to the ground, panting.

"Blayne," The killer had heard humans die like that in her cell.

However this one stood back up and gave a laugh. "You're free now! Come on, I'll lead you home."

§

There was a washing, both physical and metaphorical. Blayne poured the warm water on and scrubbed at its body. Caked on blood and dirt rubbed off. He did pause at some time.

"What is wrong?" The newly rescued creature asked.

There was a level of hesitation. "I wasn't aware you were female, that is all."

He continued rubbing the brush and strange-smelling stuff onto the body.

"Neither was I." She replied.

Then there was the feeling of being reborn. It came nearly a week later, when she had become so agitated with the strange thing he called 'clothes' that she ripped off the blindfold. Her eyes had slowly adjusted to the light, but nothing could compare her for the world. She was in a cave, gray rocks with mossy green cracks. Walking further out, she saw great, tall things with brown legs and green tops. Upwards the world was a pale blue with white speckles, downward it was dark brown with scatterings of green. Strange creatures of black and red with talons and feathers flitted around, making light noise.

"Hey!" A familiar voice said suddenly, feet trampling toward her in what she know recognized as worry.

It was Blayne, she knew that voice. But she had never seen the man before. He was taller then her, with hair the color of dried blood reaching his nape. Long bangs overlapped his face. The skin was a warm, golden color and intelligent, sensitive eyes of dark olive. The frame was lean muscle, capable and fast.

"Are you alright? Why did you come—" His words faltered at the astounded look on her face.

"Everything is..." She searched her limited vocabulary for a word. "Pretty. That is pretty, and those are pretty, and you are pretty." She used her fingers to point at each object.

He laughed a little. "That is the sky, and those are trees. Me, I'm just me."

§

"My brother's body was broken by the torture. Your's survived somehow. To save him, I put his spirit and mind another body. So now Daemon lives with the wolves."

The girl nodded, hazel eyes taking in her surroundings as they always did.

"What's a wolf?"

Blayne smiled at her. "You'll see soon another. I think one of the things he gave you was werewolf poison, so you might end up going out with them at times."

She turned her head to him, blinking in confusion. "Werewolf poison?"

"I'll tell you later. We're here." The brunette stated, waving his hand for the small pack of creatures.

They were sleek of colored in silvers, browns, and tawny. Sharp teeth and claws along with speedy muscle gave away their carnivorous state. But wise, gold and blue eyes looked up at the newcomer, seemingly to decide if she was worthy. One of the wolves patted up to the man, rubbing against his leg. He was smaller and white.

"Daemon, this is the person I rescued. She is going to live with us." The little wolf nodded before turning to her and nearly grinning with his fangs.

"Hello, who are you?"

The newly-freed creature of course, did not know wolves were not supposed to talk.

"You are Blayne's brother then. Hello."

The little wolf turned his eyes back onto his brother. "She's strange."

"She was rescued, like you." The elder corrected. "She has very little memories."

The supposed leader of the pack, a large gray wolf with wise amber eyes, growled something out.

"What do you mean I smell funny?" The girl inquired after the bark.

Olive eyes turned to her incredulously. "You understood him?"

"You don't?" The rescued replied.

The man nodded. "Yes, but I am an animagus. Normal people do not understand wolves."

"Perhaps I am an animagus then." The black-haired woman said calmly.

"Well do you know your name?" Daemon asked, cocking his furrowed head so fiercely blue eyes gazed at her.

Hazel eyes filled with thought. "I remember two names... Ally and Ann... but I don't know if they are mine."

"I like Ally better, so let's call you that." The young pup stated plainly, flitting between her legs.

"Astryian is right though, you do smell funny."

The lead wolf, dubbed Astryian, barked something out.

"I'll have to go with you all once a month. Why?" Ally asked, smiling from her new name.

"Werewolf blood. You probably didn't notice the changes due to the extent of mental torture. Don't worry though, Astryian will take care of you on those nights." Blayne soothed, seeing a wariness in her eyes.

"Do you trust him?" The black-haired female demanded.

Her rescuer nodded. "He's an animal so he's trustworthy, not like people."

The human nodded. "Then I do too."

§

The first time Ally saw herself it was when she had gone down to the water to bathe herself. The feeling of cleanliness was another joy, she discovered. However, the girl had jumped at the image staring back at her and had run back for Blayne. He had come and put all her worries at ease.

"Don't worry, it's just your reflection... It is what you look like."

The female looked hesitantly back into the lake, peering at the image staring back at her. It was a young woman with a lean face and sharp cheekbones. Large eyes the color of crinkled leaves gazed back under long, twisting locks of ebony hair. Unnaturally pale skin made her seem almost a phantom against the tan of the man beside her.

The wizard laughed as his friend pat her cheek and ran fingers through her hair.

"Do I look right?" The freed creature asked suddenly, turning to him. She had no one to judge by.

The handsome young man chuckled. "You look fine. In fact, for human standards you're quite beautiful."

"Me?" Ally blinked at the strange notion.

Blayne flicked a little water at her. "Yeah you."

Instinctively understanding the game, the hazel-eyed woman splashed him back.

"Well then so are you."

§

While the forest around her had time, Ally found herself not a part of it. Her life was learning and happiness, and time seemed to touch everything but her, as if to give her time to piece back together. She relearned many things—seasons, animals, fire, rain, mannerism, and interaction. She also discovered things no child could ever know—the feel of the night and wildness of freedom during the full moon, the difference between hunting and killing, companionship, beauty, life, and above all... love.

§

It happened one night, beside the campfire. The girl was sitting on a log, watching the fire cackle and move to some unknown flow.

"What are you thinking about?" The forest-man came and sat behind her, one arm loosely draping over her small shoulders.

Warm amber eyes tilted upward to look at his earthy, wise face. "I saw something in the village today."

"Oh, and what was that?"

"Dance."

Blayne blinked in surprise, his dark olive eyes capturing the fire-glow. "The gypsy dances?"

Ally nodded, a smile forming on her face. "It looked like fun."

The tawny-haired individual nodded, no longer looking at her but at the fire. "It can be."

Suddenly his companion was up from the log, and her slender hands were pulling at his arms to stand. "I want to try it."

At first, the hermit wizard seemed resistant. But at the look of charm and goading on her face, he too smiled and stood. Her hands found his golden arms and he held her side loosely.

"If only we had music." The woman of the woods hummed lightly.

Her partner smiled softer. "There is; it's the music of the night... Just listen."

Obeying, Ally closed her eyes and allowed her body to move to the sounds she heard; the falsetto of the nighthawk, bells of the wind through high canopies, dirge of the wolves, and markka of the fire. They swung, twisted, leaned back and wove between each other in some pattern to the night.

"How is your painting going?" Blayne asked, his body unnaturally tense.

Concern filled her eyes, but she chose to answer his question first. "Good, I sold the one with the trees in the market today."

"Good," His smooth voice had a crack in it as he caught her again.

"Blayne is there something wrong?" Her black hair swung in the darkness, eyes glowing like embers of a fire.

"Ally it's just that..." He sounded desperate, resistant, almost afraid.

The pale creature leaned toward his face for inspection. "What is—"

His lips cut off her question, warm breath tickling her senses. Suddenly the sound of the night was drowned out as if the entire world had decided to give them a moment of peace. He tasted like salt, hickory, and evergreen; and despite her initial shock resistance was not on her mind. As if regaining himself, Blayne stepped back, releasing her at an arm's length. His deep eyes were apologetic.

"Ally I'm so—" This time she cut him off with a brief, chase meeting of lips that had a smile.

"That was for before. I'm learning but I'm not stupid. I know what a kiss is."

The warlock's eyes were still uneasy. "But then you..."

The woman held up her hands "Yes, stupid, yes of course I love you."

§

"Daemon said he'd been spotted again." She stated simply as she walked into the house.

Olive eyes filled with anxiety. "You can't go after him."

Hazel eyes narrowed. "He tortured me."

"Ally..."

"He almost killed your brother,"

"Ally please..."

"And he'll come back for us. Blayne we can't be free until he is dead!"

"Ally, he'll kill you!" The brunette stood from his seat.

The pale girl refused to back down. "Not if I get him first."

"What will you achieve from his death? Have I not helped you gain everything back?" The forester demanded.

Hazel eyes softened and she reached a delicate hand to his cheek, making his eyes narrow but a hand come over-top of it.

"You are everything to me, my love." The young woman lowered her voice. "And I could not bare it if he ever did something to you. That is why I have to kill him. I'm afraid of loosing you... I couldn't live if that happened."

His fingers intertwined with her own and brought the hand level. "He is old and mad. There is little threat from his now. Let it go... I'm here."

But despite his allure, the crow haired individual removed her hand from his grasp.

"I'll be back soon." Her slender form turned and ran, leaving him with an outstretched hand.

The night soon swallowed her up.

§

Ally stuck a knife through the man at sight. However, as she looked closer, she saw something quite disturbing. Despite having the same scent, this man's aura was completely different then her antagonist's.

"Who are you?" The hunter demanded, removing her sword to reveal an old, quickly dying man.

"He... he threatened to kill me if I didn't dress in his clothes." The elderly human gurgled.

Something ill-boding filled her with dread as she picked up the man and forced him to look at her. "Where did he go."

"T-to... th—the h... house o...f w-wolves." The bald figure croaked out his last breath.

Her heart stopped.

§

"BLAYNE!" Ally ran through the forest like never before. She screamed like a banshee, not caring who or what heard her.

"BLAYNE!"

The house was being devoured by fire, smoking. She ran inside, not caring about the easy work with which the heat tarnished her fair skin. Her hazel eyes searched for his lithe form. Her eyes saw straight through the smoke to his body, leaning against a burning poll.

"Blayne," Ally whispered, running toward the forester.

His bronze skin was scorched and caramel hair smelling putridly from burn. But the dark glow of olive eyes opened at the call.

"Ally..." He murmured through cracked, bleeding lips.

"I'm so sorry, I should have listened and then none of this would have happened." She said in a rush, crying without realizing it.

The man shushed her, cupping her tear-stained face with a burning palm. "My love, I would ask you to take Daemon with you. You two will need each other in the world."

Hazel eyes widened. "Don't say that!"

She was a child again, begging for something. "Come on, let's get you out of here and—"

Blayne placed two fingers on her lips, sufficiently silencing her. The predator in her was all too aware of the smell of his blood. It was everywhere.

"Listen to me my Ally. I have loved you, and even when this body decays, I will still love you. But you are great and something above this petty world. If you forget even my name in time, remember this: You are meant for great deeds, my love, for the world has not yet taken you. So do not let this world have your heart—it is the only thing any of us can truly claim..."

Blood choked out after his words and green eyes went dull. The woman couldn't talk. Her throat had tightened and her spirit was jabbed with hot knives that froze her brain in pain. Keep her heart? It was breaking into sharp little pieces right now and cutting into sanity and life. Was it possible for her to still be breathing, living with all this pain? Did death have something against her that revoked her? Why could she not have followed him? Surely, heartbreak could kill. It hurt more than any other torture put on her.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

§

A/N: Wondering why this is randomly appearing now? It'll all be explained next chapter. But in the mean time, it would be great if you could leave a pm or REVIEW on some chapter you haven't. (2 and 1 have like 2 reviews each...) But it would be great if you guys could just do something for this chapter because it really was a work for me. (12 pages) Anyways, luv ya all!


	31. Rise of an Immortal

§

Maybe heartache did kill her at long last. After this timeless eternity, perhaps the hole deep within herself had finally won out, claiming her life. After all, there stood the gray gates with their abstract spires and lapping, colorless waters. Her dull eyes looked at them, begging silently for entrance. They remained shut, mocking her in a way.

_"You are the one who has once defied me." _The voice was lacking in so many qualities: pitch, tone, gender, age, emotion.

But Ally was too gone to worry, to fear or even question the ethereal quality of the speaker. Her entire soul was torn, falling into so much pain it was sickening. When she didn't answer, a dark shape began to materialize before her. At first it was nothing but an aura she refused to identify, and then slowly formed into a slender, tall woman with alabaster skin and coal-colored hair framing a contrasting, unique beauty. Bright hazel gleamed forth from the translucent skin. The figure blinked once, taking in her appearance.

"This is the body you have given unto me." It was the same voice—lacking in emotion and humanity, but this time it was smooth as venomous silk and equally as ominous.

If the young woman noticed the suddenly appearing creature, she gave no sign. However the new persona hardly seemed deterred by her less than vibrant state.

"By mortal standings, I am Death. Your mind has conjured up a subconscious image of me so I may speak with you."

The broken girl wouldn't even tilt her head up.

"You have lost much to Life, creature. Your mortality was robbed and immortal blood rushes through your veins, bought with agony. You died once and were brought back. And now your soul has cracked, and you have nothing left."

It would have been a strange sight for anyone to see. Two people colored in gray waters, identical in features and stature.

"But I can end the pain."

At this, the immortal looked up, glazed amber eyes not at all startled by her own reflection.

"How?" Her voice was cracked, parched for life and happiness. For _him_.

"No one can die twice, that is the reasoning behind immortality. Though I can take your body and give it power. I can seal your soul back up by burning it down. I can remove the blood from your heart."

"What do you want in return?" She had been a victim too long to not remember the game.

Death smiled a little, or more rightly smirked. "You will go back to life as a new creature, with no remnants of this one. You will become my tool, my hand in your revenge upon Life."

The hollow eyes glimmered with a hybrid between madness, desperation, and recklessness. She was a girl-woman who recalled love from only one source. He had been her sun which she revolved around, the only thing she knew. And then the sun had been removed, leaving a girl-woman in darkness of guilt, rage, and helpless sorrow. The child in her was still doubting, still dreaming of Blayne. The woman was still a part of him. Forever. There was nothing left to give, nothing to loose.

"Do it."

But nothing to gain either.

§

The flames that had killed her spirit brought it back. They burnt through her flesh and blood, melted her core down to nothing but ashes. And then they brought it back, easing it in with wild power, dangerous beauty. And a phoenix was born.

_"You are my Aduru Eposis... my fire bird."_

§

Her first act in a new life was to save Daemon. The little brother was curled in his wolf-body, shivering pitifully as it shifted in and out with a human spirit. She bent down, touching the translucent fur and noticing that her skin had darkened. As her power transferred over to the boy, his wolf body disappeared completely and one with deep scarlet plumage and a goldenrod beak appeared. The child's mysteriously pale blue eyes shone brightly against it.

Daemon blinked, gazing up at her strangely.

"Who are you?" The voice was musical and lower, but still his.

"I don't know." The immortal replied calmly, barely registering the change in her own vocal cords. They were seductive, flaring.

However the now phoenix-child kept looking at the new figure towering over him, the golden irises, though not resembling human, brought some source of forgotten familiarity to his memory. The long, twisting locks of fire-hued hair ranging from platinum sheets to darker than his plumage red; fell across his, framing an erotically beautiful face with a known bone structure...

"Ally—you're Ally!" The blue-eyed creature suddenly hopped up, wobbling as he adjusted to the sensation of two taloned legs.

The woman looked at him and a shadow fell across her face. "Ally's dead Daemon... she's with Blayne."

The younger brother was silent in the wake of her words, feeling a few glimmering, potent tears drop onto the burnt ground under him. Upon the touch of phoenix tears, the charred earth transformed back into life. Star-centered jonquil sprouted up in a show of magic, and perhaps pity from nature. Their slender white petals dipped high, exposing the pale sunlight within. Their fragility, beauty, simplicity was contrasting with the otherwise barren earth. Only two foresters could have gotten the full meaning behind the sudden blossoms. There were three, all perfectly formed and tall standing.

_Jonquil: A requited love._

At the symbol from some greater hand, the boy stopped his tears, eyes softening and piercing as they looked back up at his brother's lover.

"What will you do now?"

The reborn person was looking away, from both him and the flower's meaning.

"Away from here, to find a new life."

"And what of the wolves?"

"They will live. They always have."

The bird pondered this for a moment, cocking his head in thought.

"Well, I am coming and I cannot go around calling you nothing. So what will it be?"

It would seem strange for such a young child to ease through mourning so quickly, but the simple fact was that Daemon had not indeed healed from his brother's loss. Instead, he had remembered a promise and for him, decided to keep it. He would protect the heart he loved, which currently resided in the female before him.

Her wild gaze unfocused for a breath. "Blair... Blair Kryeen."

§

And so a new life was born. It centered on a handful of questions.

Who?

Why?

When?

How?

Who was she—that girl Ally? Who were her parents, presuming she had any; whose fault was she?

Why was she given to be tortured? Why was she powerful?

When was she created? When was she given over?

How did this happen—her start, her torture, her life before? How was she able to hold magic?

The search was swerving though, around the central killings that their lives had become. Death would command a victim, and Blair would deliver. There was a savage, fierce delight in the hunt. She remembered that.

At first, a conscience sounded suspiciously like Blayne's voice kept her away from blood. But the ache within her returned, unrelenting and grasping to stab her heart out. It was a warning and the death dealer obeyed. Her first kill in so many years, and she felt _alive_.

Her immortal blood raced brightly beneath sinewy muscle. Predatory thoughts were aided by heightened senses. Power—the wild, devastating power of fire coursed through her core and nipped away the budding sorrow. It was a rush twice as strong as any drug their was. And soon, Aduru lived for the hunt. It was freedom, it was domination.

It was life.

Thrice, she attempted to send Daemon away. The first time was before a kill, when she wanted to keep the boy from seeing her excited, blood-thirsty self. But the phoenix would always reappear by her side no longer how far or long the night was. He was morning, dawn and always there. The second time it was for more selfish reasons. She found that complete closure was impossible with a little red reminder of her past life. She scouted for a week for a suitable family—a happy, naïve little group with a charming young daughter and her parents. Before a massacre, she dropped him off and secretly planned never to return. However those intelligent icy eyes could not be fulled. He tailed her all night and was by her side in the cardinal-covered field later on. The final time was for his own safety. Fire was bright, alluring, and vehement. It was also unbridled and sparking too easily for little control. Power corrupts, or perhaps a corrupt person gains power. Either way, by desire or manipulation of her own power, Kryeen had begun to loose what little self she had left. And even monsters do not turn on her own. Daemon may have been the bane of her existence—the annoying angel shoulder and constant nagging to her sin—but he was also an irreplaceable tie to what was lost, and what is loved. He kept away that night, coming in the morning to find her half-dead, hanging off some tree with mangled limbs. Upon approaching, her half-alert brain nearly ripped off a wing before recognizing him. It was intuitive, attack before hesitation. When you hesitate, there is always that moment of silence, stillness. It is in those moments that memories resurface. So don't hesitate. It hurt too much.

§

Time was skipping her again, angry at her betrayal of its keeper. Yet it was a while before she met them, the other death dealers.

§

Death had called them all together, a rare and dangerous occurrence which all natural forces acknowledged with disasters in the shift of ancient power. The East experienced a massive earthquake, the West a dust storm, the South a tsunami, and the North the hale of the season.

All eyes watched her as Blair approached, smirking dangerously with her aura crackling.

"You're the young one, the Aduru Eposis." A misty, pale immortal stated in his breathy voice.

"My name is Blair." She replied stubbornly, golden eyes flashing.

The white-haired creature blinked in mild surprise.

"Short-tempered are we?" A willowy figure with deep rich colors stepped forward, sienna eyes trailing over the younger death dealer. A look of almost approval crossed her radiant, domineering features.

"You like that, Seraphina?" A darker, shadier form approached from the shadows, malevolent crimson orbs swept over his brethren.

"Hm, it is better than being as sadistic as you, Draeg." The woman replied, her face contorting angrily and changes her entire persona.

The pale man simply hissed in dark humor.

"Still I doubt you're half as cruel as little Larka over there." Seraphina added with a sweep of her glowing gaze.

A petite, blue-haired woman was addressed. Her complex features and startling turquoise eyes never registered wrath or distaste for the comment.

"We all have our faults, Seraphina." Instead it was the white-eyed man that spoke up on her behalf, still as calm.

"Do you still defend your lover Astor? How pitiful!" The other male mocked with a toothy grin. It created a fearful effect due to the oversized canines.

"And what do you kill for, Darkling? Your own greedy stomach?" Larka replied back, her voice rippling in anger.

"What are you all, some sort of play?" Kryeen found her voice again.

"Hm, and what about you little one? Why did you take the curse?" The Golden One asked in her booming voice.

Immediately, pikes shot up. "None of your fucking business."

Seraphina chuckled heavily. "Spit-fire."

The vampire stepped from his bored slouch, pale face snarling. "But can she back up her words?"

His blade was produced, mythical energy running through its hilt and blade.

"Draeg, this is not what we have been summoned for. She is young." Astor stood up for the new recruit's well-being. Too bad she didn't care about her own health.

"Is that a challenge?" The untamed woman asked with coy, cracking her fingers one by one.

"Is that all you have? Perhaps I should listen to the lover then..." The dark-haired man stated smoothly, flourishing his talent in a series of steps and forms.

"As though I'd need anymore. But if you fear me, that is understandable shadow-man..." Her smile was taunting, bold... cheeky.

The night immortal dropped all pretense. "Watch your tongue or I'll cut it out."

"Just try."

The air suddenly became tense, charged. The banter had turned into something that might actually be real.

"Baka." Larka murmured, remaining seated.

No one moved to step between the two—no one there was obvious self-inflicting. Red and gold exchanged heated glances, shadows and fire crept around by their masters.

Blair struck first, diving with a fist so the flames shot out like a whip to snap at his heel.

Draeg was faster, side-stepping the attack and thrusting his sword to her defense at the same time.

Kryeen forced her hands up in a cross against the blade, allowing the fire that licked her skin to deflect the assault. She sent them to crawl snake-like up the offending blade.

Darkling withdrew his sword and made one large ark that effectively suffocated the fire, and with a step was able to become another attack.

Blair had to jump to avoid the sword, shooting a fireball by snapping and flinging her fingers in a quick gesture.

Draeg did a sweeping bow to avoid the singing orb, smirking as he pulled two fingers in. Shadows rapidly advanced toward the glowing figure in the sky.

From the air, Kryeen cursed as she failed to dodge the darkness that crawled along her foot and wrapped around her ankle. She kicked the other foot far out of the intangible reach.

He pointed his fingers down, making a firm gesture. The shadow bindings responded by yanking their victim harshly into the earth. The momentum caused a faint crack in the earth.

Blair clenched her teeth against the pain as she felt her strings pull her body up again, slamming it with more force into the ground. This time a fair-sized hole formed where she landed.

"You're too young... too weak." The dark immortal commented in his crackling laugh.

And suddenly the air around his victim heated up.

_Too weak... too weak to save him... to kill him... No! Never again—I won't be weak!_

A hidden fire burst forth in her bird-like eyes, darting around with a sense of freedom. As the shadow picked her into the air again, the fire-haired woman increased the heat around her until the very air within three feet of her combusted. The sudden light and heat deteriorated the chain.

Cardinal eyes blinked at the sudden change. Her countenance, her aura—it was hotter, less controlled...

Blair burst forth from a convulsing wall of flame, leaping toward her opponent with a fierce snarl and wheeling her leg back for a sharp, fire-bitten kick.

Moving quickly, Draeg brought his sword back up to guard before a fatal attack reached his head. However, the renown blade shuddered under his grasp, heating up and burning his pale skin. There was a splitting crack and the a loud cry among the blinding light caused by the ferocity of her attack.

When it cleared, Blair was standing and panting, sweat rolling down her locks. Darkling was holding a blackened hand and had his shoulder nearly detached as the fire had spread up from his blade to his hand and frying down the length of his limb to his shoulder blade. He was staring in wonder at the once immeasurable blade in his hand—now baring a long scar along its entire length.

It looked like the fight might commence from the enraged look in his eyes and the mad thirst in hers, but just then a familiar voice called out. But even before their master arrived, two scars had been given and one grudge formed.

§

"Little one," That forceful voice called after her as the meeting dismissed.

Eposis spun around, glaring and offensive.

Seraphina looked at her with some amusement. "You fought well against Darkling."

"What do you want?" The fallen creature demanded, not batting an eyelash at the compliment.

The day immortal gave her an appraising look, allowing a very advanced aura to seep out in silent regard. "But you are ill-trained. You have no more control then fire itself and seem to not know any other way to fight."

"I get along." The individual formerly known as Ally spat back out.

Seraphina humphed. "I will train you."

Surprise registered in bright eyes, retaining the fiery remnants. "Why?"

"You remind me of someone."

§

And so she did. And as grudgingly as her apprentice seemed, she never doubted the older woman's power after one fight. Seraphina held the power of the Sun. She was a goddess and for some reason chose to aid this little flicker. And did she learn. Blair realized her own power, and perfected the use of a knouter. Every weapon was exposed, but the sadistic Aduru was attracted the weapon that could torture just as easily as it could kill. And though the two may have denied it, a special kind of bond was formed. It was a link of blood, of pain, of whimsical remembrances, and of fire's bold bask. But Kryeen would end just as Ally would.

§

Veridian eyes shot open, not completely processing the dim surroundings.

"Harry, hey kid you better not be dead! You're damn heart is beating and you're breathing so you can't be dead... Shit! Brat wake up!" There was that spicy, smooth, dangerous voice.

His gaze turned toward the familiar figure, smudged and bloody, leaning over him with a few longer crimson locks fingering his chest.

"Blair..." Harry croaked out, his mind catching up with the sudden alertness.

The boy sat up quickly, startling his professor into falling back on her legs. He was panting, and lying on a slick, wet floor in the cave. His pupils still dilated, the wizard turned to his companion.

"Blair I saw you..."

The DADA teacher lifted an eyebrow. "What did that fall result in your five-second memory or something? You've seen me before idiot."

Potter let the comment slide, the growing importance of the vision making him speak again. "No I saw... Blayne and Daemon... except he was a wolf... and you were tortured... and Seraphina and Draeg..."

Golden eyes narrowed. The darkness set in them, and he was reminded suddenly of Ally's crackling brown eyes.

"My past?"

The boy-who-lived nodded, guilt and pity wrenching in his stomach along with disgust.

The witch turned away for a moment. "I guessed so, after all I saw your past."

The Chosen One blinked at this new piece of information. "You did?"

She nodded curtly. "Oh and Harry..."

"Yeah?"

"Are the Dursely's under your kind of noble protection? Because if not..."

§

A/N: Another long one! Whew, it was worth it though! Might be my only one for December though, sorry! Anyways, there is **A LOT **of symbolism behind Seraphina and we'll hear more about her later on... Oh, and anyone got any predictions? They are so fun to read! Luv ya all!


	32. Enter: Larka

§

Before Harry could even work up a good scream, he felt a pair of power arms envelop his chest and then he was floating through the darkness rather than free-falling. Craning his neck back, he found that the inkiness would not part to let him see her. Even without seeing though, he knew that those ivory wings had folded open again.

After a moment, she began to emancipate light from her body, becoming a torch against the dim as they landed, allowing him to see when she dropped him onto the ground.

"Ow," The boy winced from the surprising fall to the ground.

The wizard turned to glare at his teacher, who glared back at him with the same ferocity and said smoothly, "I saved you, didn't I?"

Exasperated green eyes moved away from the woman's lighting form to sweep around the cavern. There was something familiar about the bones, wet rock, creeping moss, and disproportionately big snake skin...

_Wait... giant snake skin? _Potter's mind clicked, swiveling his head back in the direction of the offending object.

If his mouth had not gone abruptly dry, the teenager would have groaned aloud. He knew this place, and of the horror it once held.

"Nice place." Blair commented finally, breaking the silence into laughable little pieces and moving to pick up a piece of wet wood, frown at it, and light it with touch. It took a few tries due to the dampness, but in the end she managed to get a steady flame and handed the torch to her mortal companion.

"What's wrong? Did you wet yourself during the fall?" The fiery creature asked with an arched eyebrow at his quietness.

The seeker picked himself up and took the torch. "I know where we are."

Kryeen turned back to him, impatiently waiting for continuation.

The black haired individual ignored her obvious irritant for a moment to gather himself away from the _unpleasant _memories. The student shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"The Chamber of Secrets."

The immortal started, and the orphan could almost see her skimming over the newly acquired memories.

"As in the place where you fought Tom's memory?"

The boy-who-lived(_barely from that event_) nodded.

The professor addressed his wary, taut poise. "The snake is dead, you remember."

The Chosen One shot her a pointed look. _Is she going to keep telling me my memories now?_

"I know. I'm the one who killed it."

The golden-eyed being shrugged at his tone. "Well you seemed scared of a _dead_ snake."

Okay, scar-face had a good reason to be pissed by now. Here, his supposed _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ Teacher had pressed some carving on the cave wall and dropped them both into the Chamber of Secrets.

_Press the shiny button to see where it goes. I'm not sure who is saving who!_

"How would you like going back to the forest where Blayne died?" The visibly angered youth demanded.

That shut her up.

§

She took a sharp left and would have tumbled over if not for a pair of arms to encircle her waist.

"Geez Hermione, when I said hurry, I didn't mean do a triathlon." Ron frowned a little as he hoisted her back onto her feet.

The witch gave him a pointed look, fuming. "Harry is out there with that lady, Ron! You heard what Ginny said, Voldemort—don't you dare flinch—is after him!"

The Weasley rubbed his ear from her rant, almost sure blood would be pooling from it. "I know that. You think I want anything to happen to him? He's my best mate!"

"Well you sure aren't acting like it." The brunette replied hotly, her curls standing on end.

"Just because I'm not klutzy enough to barrow down staircases does not mean I'm, not worried about it. I am—my sister was in tears, bloody hell! I'm scared shitless. There now are you happy?!"

The pair stood toe to toe, glaring at each other for a moment. Within a breath, the girl had her arms clinging to his chest, sobbing as he held her tightly.

"R—Ron I'm s—"

"Yeah, I know." The boy tried not to look _too_ smug as he stroked her hair. "Let's just... find him, okay?"

Granger released him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek as thanks. Her smile was enough, even through red-rimmed eyes.

"Right. Now come on!" The muggle born dragged him down the stairs, still keeping up a fair pace despite her previous fall.

Neither of them dwelt on the exchange. Feeling could be dragged out and examined later. Right now, there was a _trouble_some piece missing in their golden trio.

The light shafted through the windows, waning into early morning. It should have brought ill thoughts, that so much time had passed since the two messengers returned, one fighting, to the castle. But as they gave a decent sprint throughout the castle, passing between students blissfully ignorant to the events occurring at the very same moment; hazel eyes couldn't help but admire how her hair turned gold in the refractions. He was being guided by this soft, course light. And he was sure that he would follow it into any night.

"When I get my hands on him! Oh, he'll be sorry for jinxing us." The young woman began to ramble mindlessly again as frustration took over. "Just wait until I see his scarred little face again!"

The wizard found an amused smile making its way to his face despite the direness of the situation.

"You might have to fight for that right."

Still holding hands, they turned as one down the neck hallway. The head of her class spared him an incredulous look back.

"What, you want first shot?"

The Keeper snorted in that endearing, Ron-like fashion of his. "It'd be nice, pumping some sense into his heroic ass. Still I don't think it will happen."

They were passing their last corner, and the windows no longer lined their path, removing the luminescent glow from her form. It remained instead, in the passionate burn of her amber eyes. As they reached their destiny and finally turned toward him.

"Then who?"

"No, Aidan I will not release the hex. Why? Because you were in my way! What? No, I don't care if you're supposed to look after me! I am going and BRINGING HIS SORRY SELF HOME!" A determined, feminine voice slammed from a little further away, approaching them.

The red-head flashed a smirk and his companion understood immediately.

"Ginny."

§

Aidan Smith had his hands full. Well, more or less his face filled with bats flying around from an enraged Weasley daughter.

She was damnably stubborn. Really, it was going to be the death of her. However, she was not going to die after he made a silent pact with the boy-who-lived and a slightly more effective promise to the revered warlock they had just left. Dumbledore had pardoned him, of course; just as the red-head had said.

_Selfless..._

"Kid, lift the spell now!" The renegade demanded, batting at the flying creatures around his head.

"If I'm such a _kid_, then my spell must be so much more pathetic than yours." The girl began, battering her lashes in mock demure. "So why doesn't the big, strong death dealer just undo my little hex?"

"G-" The blond paused to swat at a bat that got dangerously close to his nostril. "-inny, I promised your boyfriend and the Headmaster that I would protect...you?" His hazel eyes took in her startled, almost wounded change and his voice twisted accordingly.

The bats were ignored as pain emancipated from the 5th year.

As unexpectedly as it came, it vanished from the Chaser and instead a grim determination set her smooth jaw.

"Harry is not my boyfriend."

Sensing he was venturing onto bloody territory and not stupid enough to pursue, Aidan backed down with a reassuring wave of his hand.

"In any case, I'm in charge of your well-being for the moment and that means that dangerous rendezvous are out of the question." Before the young man could continue his rant, a pair of brilliant, steeled brown eyes latched onto him and withered the argument with their _passion_ and resistance.

"I am going after Harry, Aidan. Don't try to stop me because we both know that I would win in a duel. I care about him and I am not letting him throw himself away for our sakes." Her tone was softer, but somehow much harder to argue with.

The freed man didn't comment, but instead stared at this strange, significant little woman. The set line of her face, fever stirred up in her eyes, purposeful stride, and yet some lingering doubt in her entire poise. He had seen that look on someone once. And it had impacted his childhood enough to recognize it now.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" The runaway murmured, dark eyes understanding and prying.

To he benefit, the youngest Weasley didn't blush as most girls would have when confronted with such a deep, sincere question from a near stranger. Granted, a near stranger whose life she may have saved, if not drastically altered.

"Who knows?" She replied calmly, and their eyes met for a lingering time.

Footsteps interrupted the moment as a group of familiar magicians poured onto the scene.

"Tonks, Moody, Shacklebolt, Professor Moody... what are you all doing here?"

It was Remus who replied, looking younger then he had years ago.

"We're here to help you find Harry, of course."

§

"Blair," The said person called out in the gloom to his only companion in the desolate caverns.

"Yeah?" The immortal replied without turning back around to speaker. She was sating her curiosity for the place she had only seen in another's memories.

"What did you ever do with Salizar's tomb and that Guardian? Whatever... came of that?" The green-eyed heartthrob asked as he walked a few paces behind, tense and warily scanning the surroundings.

"It's still up in my room, put in the storage closet." Aduru replied casually while she ran a hand down a section of rock.

"Don't do that!" The tragic celebrity snapped as he caught her doing it.

Golden eyes blinked. "What?"

"You pet a rock in the other cave too and that's how we ended up _here_. I'm not letting you do that _again_." The teenage boy muttered sullenly.

The spicy-haired creature shrugged it off easily. "What's twisting your boxers? Loosen up."

It proved that the 6th year had adjusted and was used to her strangeness by simply not turning a head at this question.

"Why do you keep it? Why did you get it up in the first place and start all that trouble?"

"As I recall, it was your little friend that challenged me."

The dark haired individual resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "And you couldn't think of a less destructive way to do so?"

"Searching."

"Searching for your past?"

The DADA teacher seemed much more interested in the freakishly large snake skin than the conversation.

"I still don't see how that has to do with Slytherin."

..."He dabbles in much of the dark arts."

"And?"

"Blair?"

"He was one of the few wizards, no mortals, to know of the existence of death dealers."

"But wait, you told us all."

She smirked. "Yes, well I've never been one for protocol now have I?"

"I suppose... but I still don't understand."

"I had heard of Salizar Slytherin in my travels. When I found out he had knowledge of our existence, I thought that somehow I might find what I was looking for with him."

"How would Slytherin have to do with your past?"

"Don't touch that and listen!"

"Forget about it." The enticing form turned so abruptly it made the Seeker start.

That darkness—which he now knew to be hurt—flashed through her eyes. Potter took a step forward, a hand reaching out on instinct.

"Blair..."

Eposis shook her head and shrunk away from his touch. "Leave it be. Let's just get you back to your friends."

Fear of digging the blade deeper clamped his mouth tighter than any muzzle of threats. The teen wizard nodded and the pair began walking again. The atmosphere was charged, but not foreboding as in any other person's company. Kryeen was too oblivious of etiquette to invoke the right of awkward silences. The tunnels still made Harry shiver and memories flash through his mind's third eye.

_Tom, the Basilisk, Faux, Ginny..._

_Ginny_

_Be safe._

His silent plea to the fates distracted him to the point that the sixteen-year old almost stumbled into the toned back in front of him when it came to an unplanned stop.

"What is it?" He asked, veridian eyes scanning for anything interesting.

"It's his history." The woman formerly known as Ally had an ancient tome in her hands written in a snaking hand and yellow with time.

The human recognized it as Parselmouth, and looked up at her concentrated eyes.

"Can you read it?" That would be something new, if not unsurprising.

"Parts of it. Some of this is beyond my reach though. It's the tongue of the snake, right?" The tri-color haired woman reverted back to strange dialect and was near endearing.

"Let me see it. I can translate the text for you." Her pupil promised, taking the heavy, worn book from her grasp and automatically assuring himself that it was not in fact, Tom Riddle's diary. However, it was a journal of sorts...

"Hang on, this is Slytherin's personal book." His gaze poured over the symbols with confusion as he looked back up at her.

"Is it now?" The death dealer commented with dangerous, vicious interest. Whatever that interest might invest was delayed, however, by a sudden crushing sound further down their tunnel.

When the Hogwart's attendee's eyes next met the fire creature, the knouter was already fast in her grip and his grim furrow was met by her taunting grin. His stomach tied in knots, untied itself, and then re-tied again until he was sure that he most had vomited inside himself. The reminiscent fear was too great. Well, maybe not fear. Dread was a better word. The underage wizard was still recalling a fight with a true monster, and the pain of its venom as he neared death. He was seeing a younger girl with bleached skin and gray-sheened hair of sienna. He still heard a darkly attractive youth laughing at his naivety and foolishness. He could still smell blood. His blood, her blood, reptilian blood. It had been everywhere and he a little too young to deal with it all. He could feel the fang piercing his shoulder, the poison wreaking havoc to his premature body and the close embrace of death. And if he tried hard enough, he could still taste the tears. Her tears for him; for his sacrifice and her manipulation. The phoenix's tears for his life, willing the life back into him in their salty purity.

And then she was there, scalding touch bringing him back to the present. He was a little surprised to find he didn't mind the burn.

"Sounds like someone's at the exit."

§

Hermione wasn't sure what her best friend was trying to accomplish, slinking around in the shadows like that. However, she forgot to care as soon as she caught a flash of his dark cloak and dark hair. She heard the party calling her back in the distance, as she sprinted the gap between them. Either to hug or to hit the boy, she wasn't sure.

"Harry!"

His chartreuse orbs widened in surprise, but before he could collect himself to gasp out anything she was around his neck, crying freely.

"You stupid—Oh! How could you Harry! How could you leave us like that—you selfish... oh, Damn it Harry you could have died!" The female of their trio vented as she clung to her best friend's filthy body in the dark of the cursed place.

"What... How?" Potter scrambled for words as he saw his preciously kept people emerge from the dark like little lights, saving pieces of his heart.

"We came for you of course." Ron said a little stiffly, his pride still wounded.

In response, his best mate cracked a genuine, overfilling smile and punched him on the shoulder.

"Oh come on, I had to keep up with the crazy one over there."

Their instructor piped up from the shadows. "Ha, and who is the one who leaped from a cliff I might ask?"

"YOU DID WHAT?" His sister yelled in his ear, tears still collecting in her bush of hair.

Wow, his ears just popped as he rubbed the side of his head sheepishly. "Stuff happened, but we're okay now, _really_." He emphasized when it looked like she was going to argue.

"Well if that's the case, let's get out of this damned place." Moody's large eye was going haywire with the threatening aura of the chamber.

"Yes, you have a very, very long lecture awaiting you, idiot." Tonks had streaked hair today.

Feeling content for the first time in very long, the Seeker felt someone brush by him. One body was retreating, away from the infectious joy of the reunion.

"Blair?" He called her name softly.

His savior paused, giving him a daring smirk that didn't quite cover the nostalgic look in her eyes. "There is no way I'm sitting through that lecture with you, kid."

However, Potter understood.

_This is your happiness. I don't belong._

The raven-haired boy frowned, but allowed her to trudge through the rocky exit away from them.

_But I want you to be a part of my happiness._

§

Kryeen wasn't angry at him for his moment. It was one of this beautiful moments that fills your heart until it's ready to burst. A rare scene of true friendship, comradeship, and love.

_But I am a death dealer. I cannot, do not have capacity for that anymore. _

One bloodied hand made its way up to the phoenix feather necklace.

_I've fallen beyond repairs._

Maybe if she could have gotten angry, resented the damn mortals for their insignificant feeling; the Aduru Eposis could have stayed. She understood anger, it was a shield. But for some reason, his brooding forest eyes had a way of robbing her of her internal shields.

Blair inhaled deeply, still smirking daringly. Bloodied, smiling, and reminiscent, she looked every inch a solder returning from war.

That is, until light feet disrupted her introspection.

"Celia?" The fire immortal questioned as the familiar girl barred her path, eyes shut.

There was a pause, and the witch's purgatorial senses felt the warp in the pacifist's aura. She tensed, gritting her teeth at the built up suspense.

The beautiful teenager slowly opened her eyes, and they were the many levels of rippling turquoise.

"Larka!" She hissed.

The water immortal smiled through her puppet. "We need to chat, Aduru."

"Damn you!" The golden woman clenched her teeth.

_Daemon's too attached for me to kill the wretch._

However, the weary mind could not create a plan before one dainty hand lifted and the anthrax of languages was spoken.

The golden eyes dilated and slid shut as Blair crumbled to the floor.

§

Sorry for the long wait. I was on vacation in December and then midterms are coming up. :-X... I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible. Reviews always add motivation if you kindly would.

And yes, the crazy writer did have a point for the whole Guardian of Slytherin arc. It took me long enough to bring it back, huh?


	33. Two Weeks Notice

§

_Becoming a death dealer, she supposed, really hadn't changed much. She still had no memory of before her imprisonment—of who she was, where she came from. And in her torture, she became a monster; an emotionless, mindless beast bent on killing and loosing all humanity. All she had known was blood and pain, and when the pain got to be too much it was only numbness because she had forgotten what she had lost so it was only emptiness left. Emptiness is soaking, slumbering. Then there had been a light, which guided her back to humanity. It was short and flickered out, and there was blood and pain again. There was nothing again, so she wanted the senselessness back. She became a monster once again; a killer without remorse. And the emptiness was filled with fire which burnt away all other thoughts and dragged her soul deeper and farther into the abyss of oblivion. Another light, brighter yet darker from the first, found her and lifted her once again from the hollowness. And just as quick, it too was extinguished by blood._

_Becoming a death dealer, she knew, hadn't changed a damn thing. Because it was a cycle. There was Abyss, Beast, and Light before and it was the same now. Nothing had changed. Her life was and would always be, Blood. Blood and Pain, Blood and Numbness, Blood and Death. It was always there, ready to smother whatever cleansing light had come between it. So ironically was it then, that this fire that burnt through her should give off its satanic glow even as it suffocating the tips of the second candle. She would always be that, Blood. _

_Her fist had punched through the sleek muscle, causing a hot, white liquid to pour onto her hand. As the flames simmered down on her flesh and the ash cleared from her eyes, it started to burn in an unusual way. The brilliant droplets almost seared into her skin and burnt her heart just as they cooled her mind. Or perhaps it was the homecoming of conscious which made the heart ache so. Hollowing, morbidly releasing eyes of burning color stared into her own golden ones, still lingering with the craze from before. She was panting and burning with one hand still punching through the other's flesh. Seraphina smiled as her pupils rounded again. The shimmer of the white liquid began to fade, running red from her upturned lips and mouth. The goddess had a dark, knowing humor. Perhaps she had always supposed that she would be killed by the one creature she called pupil. Maybe it had been planned from the beginning. Aduru Eposis felt used, and guilty with her golden blood running down her hand. _

_"Damn you," The girl whispered, shaking in emotion. "DAMN YOU!"_

_Her mentor continued to smile. "No, little one. You are the one that is damned. I am finally free now."_

_The hand wrenched itself from her gut, causing the light immortal to crumble to the floor._

_"How could you do this to me? Why the fuck wouldn't you fight back!?!" She screamed at the person fading on the earth._

_Seraphina looked up, one last, malicious smile. "Because I am the Sun, and like the Sun everything in my world revolves around me. I am selfish, and I stole freedom from you... Blair."_

_It was the first time she had ever said her name, and the fire immortal had only thoughts._

_**I am no one's little one any more. I am no longer a child, and I am no longer owned.. by either of them. And if neither my heart may not possess me; then I shall not allow anything else.**_

§

_And Master Death was only to happy about that; _Kryeen thought sardonically as she aroused from a slumber. However her bitter prose was abruptly cut short as the last moment's events unfolded. Wiry muscle tensed and she shot up, bird-like eyes wide and flickering around the room for...

"Larka," The fiery woman hissed, throwing the white linen sheets from her body as she looked for the water immortal.

When she got her hands on that narcissistic bitch...

"I am afraid Larka is not here. Will I do?" His presence was as unmistakable as his breathy, caressing voice.

Opalescent eyes, periwinkle fair hair, pale skin...

"Astor," Blair allowed his name to roll of her tongue with less venomous, if remaining wariness. "Why are you here?"

He chuckled softly, like vibrations in the air as a small smile bit into his timeless face.

"Come now, Aduru. Try not to be so biting to the person who granted you wings." He was beautiful, in such an unreal way. Like an angel.

_Though we are all demons._

"I am not obligated to pay you for your bout of stupidity. And stop calling me that. My _name_ is Blair." The witch spat, glaring back.

If Astor was bothered by her infamous fuck-you glare, he gave no sign of it. Patience, it seemed, ran deep in this man.

"Ah, I forgot. You are Blair now, aren't you? Blair Kryeen." It was the way he said it, simply and understandably in a complex metaphor.

"What does that mean?" The woman demanded, easily infuriated by her own pacification with the fellow immortal.

White, sheer eyes looked intently at her own; wise thoughts drooling below the hidden veil of sight. He took his time, seemingly unaffected by everything. Finally, he spoke in a soft voice. "If I were to cut you now; your blood could not be redder."

Golden eyes studied him in return as she shifted, defiantly aware of the matter. "What is your point, Astor?"

The wind immortal smiled gently again and touched a small bruise at the base of his collarbone. "Larka was not happy to be relieved of you, but she did comply in the end. She took you away at my request... However, her resentment took priority. My apologies, I thought she would be able to deliver you painlessly."

The sincerity in his aged gaze made her look toward the left, shrugging off-handedly. "You have to stop apologizing for that woman, idiot. You are two different people."

The fair creature wrinkled his eyes in some form of regretful humor. " But we are bound to each other—in love or hate—I can no longer tell. Yet it remains, and I am hers just as she is mine... Which is why I have brought you here."

Blair took a moment to survey the empty, pristine room that felt a little... ethereal. "Where is here?"

"A safe place, where Death cannot find you and your humans will not intrude upon us by happening." He gestured welcomely with his hands.

"A wind influx, a space of sky in which old magic still flows strongly;" The professor noted aloud while raising a brow. "You certainly went to great lengths to get me here."

The death-dealer nodded obligingly. "Does that surprise you? I am of Desperation, after all.

§

Harry frowned as he took a turn too sharply, stumbling a little. His feet moved instinctively toward the goal while his mind was replaying his hour or so long lecture.

_You'd think that their Chosen One could actually prepare himself so he didn't get his head blown off... _

But even as he mentally sighed, the black-haired boy couldn't help but smile a little. If he ever doubted people cared about him... However, there was one person he wanted to see missing from his welcoming party.

_Ginny..._

A flash of auburn caught the corner of his eye, coaxing like a candle and embracing like autumn.

Speak of the devil.

"Ginny!" Another voice called after the girl.

He frowned, spotting the stranger she had insisted upon bringing. The young man was chasing after a storming witch. Everything about her screamed _pissed_.

The youngest Weasley wheeled around, narrowed eyes flashing and tight lips. She looked so like her mother in that moment.

"If you don't get the hell away from me right now, I will hex you so that you're stuck to that chandelier for a year and send Peeves to draw all over your face!" The teenager hissed, drawing her wand for emphasis.

Green eyes watching in silence narrowed slightly. _Did he hurt her?_

Aidan stalked back in fear, holding his hands in defense. "Look, you are too stubborn for your own good. I was told to protect you—"

The red-head looked about to slap him. "You _drugged_ me."

The blond shifted through his hair. "I had to. It was dangerous going into that god-forsaken chamber to look for that kid."

Amber eyes flashed as she leaned on her toes to glare at his face. " I told you not to get in my way."

The wizard took another step back, looking down. "Look if you want to kill yourself on your own time; fine by me. However, you can't do it while I'm guarding you."

The young witch clenched a fist around her wand and stormed off again recklessly. She was still fuming in fact, as she ran into the hard chest of someone who was to captivated to move away quick enough.

"Omph, sorry I just..." The 5th year's words blinked out as she actually looked at who she had ran into.

Wiry frame, understanding emerald eyes, smoldering dark locks in disarray; a battered and smiling Harry Potter was looking at her with an almost tangible emotion on his face. It was electricity that knocked the breath from her lungs and made the hair on her nape prick up.

"Ginny..." The older boy breathed, feeling a tightening in his chest and trying to fight the sudden need to kiss her.

_Think of the scar, think of the scar. _He repeated the mantra while thumbing the mark on his arm.

"Harry you're back," His best friend's sister found her tongue first, embracing his neck. "Damn it, you scared the hell out of me."

The teenager swallowed hard, hands tightening on her shoulders briefly. Gratitude filtered into his system with relief and he met the muddy gaze of the stranger. He sent a silent message.

_Thank you for protecting her._

The man nodded, giving a quirk of the lips. _I probably owed it too you anyways._

"Glad you're safe." The 6th year murmured before she disentangled herself, smirking in such a _Ginny_-like way that he almost bubbled with laughter despite the direness of the times.

She put one fair hand on a slender hip. "So, where is Blair? It's got to be interesting spending time with her."

_Blair! _The word immediately brought him down from Cloud Nine.

Her darkened, golden eyes burned into his mind along with the memories he shouldn't possess. His original reason for going down this particular hall came rolling back to the protagonist.

"Blair! I have to go find her!" Scar-face admitted, a little reluctant to leave the girl so soon.

However, the Weasley daughter smiled; hooking casually onto one of his hands in a confident, easy gesture. "Well then shall we go find her Mr. Potter?"

Aidan had vanished somewhere, apparently feeling that he was now relieved of his duty... or breaking a moment.

§

Celia sprinted through the halls, causing the shafts of light-dark to spiderweb across her vision without notice. Her pale cheeks flushed, eyes widened and luxurious hair flowing. Coming to a turn, she came to a screeching stop while panting. An unknown blond man was calmly walking down the other side. He could help. The girl regained her breath and ran up to him.

The unknown wizard blinked. "Can I help you?"

The 6th year took one breath before speeding through a reply. "My apologies for bothering you, but I needtoknow if you know where Professor Kryeen or Harry Potter are." Her words stuck together in haste.

The man arched an eyebrow. Was that the name of that strange woman in the cave?

"Er... I don't know about your Professor, but I just saw Potter in that hallway to the left," He pointed.

The beautiful young woman nodded. "Thank you," She was off again.

Aidan shook his head slowly after watching her slender figure grow farther away.

"And they think it's crazy at the death eater camps... This place is like an asylum."

Magnatine slid a little as she made the turn. Her mind was managing to go faster than her feet, and it was one of the few times the pacifistic girl was actually ever so wired.

She had woken up, as if from some hang-over or drugged slumber; on the cold stone and with a faint blur in her memory. From living on the streets, this phenomenon did not bother her as much as other people. However, as the seer sat up, she saw a person arguing with a great white swan a little ways away. Omnipotent eyes blinked.

_Person? _There was something strikingly not normal about them. The bird was too large and its plumage nearly glowed with pristine. It was beautiful in perfection and purity, almost _angelic_. The girl was petite and sensuously curved. Her long, waving hair was multitudes of the deepest navy, foamy cream, and deep sea green. Her skin was pale, with an almost cool undertone and the deepest turquoise eyes she had ever seen sported under a smooth brow. But there was a wrathful feel to her, as a rumbling temper showered in her voice.

"Let me take her, Larka." The swan spoke in a soothing voice.

"Why? Why the hell do you want her Astor? Have the years caused you to grow bored with me?!" That woman... she was the one who had appeared as the chatdemer!

The pale eyes of the bird radiated sorrow no animal can feel. "I will never, my dear Larka. But Aduru Eposis is the only one who can end this. Do you want us to remain like this forever? Always close but never touching; one changes always while the other must stay. Is this not torment to you as well?"

His eloquence had hit something within the other creature, for surely no human woman could look like her. Her eyes darted away, and in a stray moment, noticed that there was a watcher.

"So girl, you awoke." Larka spoke quietly now.

Celia pushed her fear away but did not move to stand. "What has happened? Are you not the chatdemer?"

She smiled bitterly. "That is my _bestia_ form; as this swan is the form of another. I am _immortalis."_

The seer eyes caught an aura, familiar to her. "You are an immortal lady, as Blair Kryeen?"

Instantly, her countenance grew darker.

"Is that the name she goes by now?" The swan murmured from the back. "Aduru Eposis..."

"What has happened to her? Is she harmed?" The brunette remembered the strange fiery professor, Daemon's only constant companion and tie to the past. Worry crept into her.

"That is what we are discussing now, young one." The pure creature soothed, turning back to the woman. "Larka, give her to me."

"What use is she to you, Astor? The night of the full moon is tonight! Will you not share it with me? Will you spend it with that foul creature?" Jealousy, the witch saw.

"Your bitterness blinds you, my love. Aduru Eposis can give us all nights; but you must not harm her." The animal Astor spoke a little firmer.

The water immortal turned back to face the mortal girl. "If I give you Aduru then I shall take the life of this human in exchange."

Celia tensed, but was not unwilling. Her life for Blair's seemed unfair; one was a great light to guide while the other was a mute note.

The swan swayed his neck gracefully. "You care for the human, Larka, not I."

The female stormed with all the vengeance of the sea. She shook, and then cast two fingers toward the kidnapped Slytherin.

"Send," The words were a spell of their own, not English but understandable somehow.

The last thing the purchased soul heard before she fell out of this room—or world, she didn't know—was the soft voice of the swan.

"Larka, please."

"You traitor! I should kill her!"

And then she was back at Hogwarts, standing in an empty hallway and thoughts blurry.

That was how the normally serene girl ended up careening through her school. In her speed, the pretty witch stepped right past the person she had been looking for. She stopped abruptly, almost falling over.

Her friend blinked. "Celia? What's wrong?"

Out of breath once again; the young woman took an offered arm to hold herself up. The younger girl had released his other arm, and was watching the exchange with curiosity and a bit of concern.

"Harry, it's Blair. Someone has taken her."

§

The person in question was currently sitting on a bed, head cradled in her hands and a pensive expression on her face while the wind immortal stood a few feet away.

"Could it really work?"

Astor blinked, looking up at taut golden eyes. "If you are willing to make the sacrifice. It is an _imortalis_ _veneficus_, even Death is bound to it."

The fire immortal looked disbelievingly at her companion. "Why would you help me? What's in it for you?"

The male death-dealer shut his eyes, breathing deeply. "Do you think that you are the only one who hungers for an end, for release? That you are the only one who regrets? Seraphina... You never killed Seraphina, she allowed herself to die. It was the kindest thing ever done to her. Larka and I... we are bound apart. Never able to touch, to see each other in true form. What was done for love has become hate and we have lost so much of ourselves... There is no place left in the world for us to be together. It must end."

The tri-color haired woman watched him closely then seemed to decide that he was sincere. "Why me? Why am I the only one able to do it? I am not complete as you and the water bitch. Wouldn't it work better if one of you did it?"

At this, the fair figure gave a phantom smile. He took airy strides, rather as if he was on wings, and leaned down to her. One white hand brushed her skin as he pulled on the necklace, delicately fingering the three black and three white beads on either side of the large red feather.

"We all broke, Aduru. Somewhere along the line, our spirits bent to his will. Even Seraphina had given in. But you..." He released the necklace and looked back up to her questioning face. "...you could not shatter. Perhaps it was because you splintered too many times in the past life, I could not say. But I do know that even as you killed; you lived like none of us ever did. You never betrayed your first love to complete the ring of power. You defied Death's orders to search for your past, and kept that human heart alive even as it pained you so. You were never Aduru Eposis, even as you tried. But you are no longer the girl Ally... You are Blair—wild, unsurmountable, flame. And that is what makes you different. You _never_ gave in. Recklessly and hopelessly you fought. And it is your spirit—the unthinkable combination of a human heart and an immortal body—that allows you to complete this ritual. Only you; only ancient power for the sake of love."

The witch smiled darkly. "One last fight, one last challenge to him."

He nodded, pale eyes glimmering. "All of us against Death."

Kryeen stared at Astor, some thing going throughout her head. "Then I will become your solder; your sword and your shield... For what good is a fighter such as I without a war? I am Blood, and there is no place in peace for me."

"Two weeks," Her fellow conspirator was truly smiling now, as was she in a determined, desperate visage.

"I'll come for you then."

The female death dealer nodded. "Two weeks then, to find out who I may be."

§

"I'm fine, brats! Do I look injured?" The DADA professor snapped at the four children basking over her in her room.

Upon returning to her room, and opening the door; four persons greeted her. One Potter, Magnatine, Weasley, and translucent Daemon.

"Where were you, Blair?" The phoenix-boy demanded, worry ruining his anger.

Subtly, their teacher pocketed a small book. "Out. Now, isn't there something you all need to be doing?"

"And what would that be?" Harry snarled back, frustrated with her nonchalance.

"In class."

Blank looks passed through each other, and then the three students sped off in different directions. Only Daemon remained, ready to open his opalescent human mouth.

"Go after her."

Icy eyes blinked in surprise. His wood-sister sighed.

"Celia, go after her. You both need it."

Daemon eyed her suspiciously. "Why Blair?"

The woman winked. "Because god knows that we need some entertainment during this gloomy day."

The door to her class slammed shut, and a reluctant boy shifted back into phoenix form to glide after the Slytherin 6th year.

Inside the room, Blair pulled the old tome out, stroking it thoughtfully.

"Two weeks."

§

A/N: Because telling you what happens would be too easy.


	34. God Made the Earth

§

**_Day 1:_**

Blair Kryeen-

Aduru Eposis--

_That_ woman.

She really was quite annoying. No, _beyond_ annoying. She was hated.

Tom Riddle had a clear and crisp loathing of the entire structure of the world. He wished to, would; destroy this petty society and rebuild one of greater being with himself as the eternal lord. However, he could count on his fingers the number of people he truly, absolutely, all-consumingly; _hated_. The rest of those meat-bags weren't important enough to earn such high regard. In fact, the exclusive club of Lord-Voldemort-truly-hates-you composed of a grand total of three people. Two males and a female. Two adults and a child. Two wizards and a witch.

Albus Dumbledore—his old professor. That senile old man with his ridiculous notions on life. The fates had certainly screwed around with giving him all that power. He didn't deserve it; with his false little lies and silly, wasted dreams. He was a lost cause, too old and rooted to be of any help.

Harry Potter—that blasted boy. If Dumbledore didn't deserve his power, Potter had _stolen_ it. From him. All because one servant had poor ears. Prophecy? He was a god, he was above such mortal callings. That kid that followed his headmaster like a good dog; how pathetic. All that power, his power; was being used by the Ministry and that old man because the boy-who-lived was simply a toy. That's okay. When he killed the brat, all that damage would be undone.

And the newest addition to his little club.

Blair Kryeen—damnable woman. She thought she could use him, the greatest Dark Lord? That night when she overpowered him with her immortal magic; he had become fascinated in her strangeness. She was not a dog of Dumbledore or a devotee of Potter. She had hunted with them, killed with a laugh. But slowly, that crude little creature had began to fight with them, all for the child bearing his power. So he had gained her power through another aspect; he could become an immortal just as she was. Then he would punish that insufferable girl. Make her see that she wasn't his equal, didn't deserve to give him that fiery glance. Or fill his dreams with fire and things he hadn't felt since Tom died. Because Tom was dead, the human was dead. He was a god, and he would make her see that to drive away the dreams.

But all that would wait.

Lord Voldemort smiled wickedly, spidery fingers trailing along the map. The little black dots were growing, concentrating.

_One week. One week until the take-over begins._

While many would say insane, no one ever accused the wizard of stupidity. In fact, it was the man's incredible cleverness that helped make him such an opposition. And the Death Eater's trusted their Master; and saw his plan as infallible. Because of course, it was.

_Fenrir's werewolves will move in here..._ Scarlet eyes glowed in the lamplight, coursing over the parchments and spiraling notes.

_The giants will go in first wave, with Lucius's squadron leading them._

If before he had been dangerous. If the last war had been devastating.

Then he was invincible this time around. The second war of Revelations would end in his victory.

§

**Day 2:**

The heavy thud of a large book on her desk interrupted her furious scribbling. Golden eyes shot up in questioning. She met his green, defiant ones as he crossed his arms.

"It's the album, my parent's album. I though we could use it to see if you recognized anyone in it since you drew my mother's eyes."

Smiling a little at the scowl that had worked its way onto his face, the professor feigned disinterest and turned back to her notes.

In response, Harry plopped himself down on the chair beside the table.

Giving an exaggerated sigh, the DADA teacher replaced her quill and looked up, humor obvious in her orbs despite the false exasperation she had placed on her visage.

"Need something, or do I entrance you to the point where you _must_ to stare?"

Her pupil snorted, still giving her a half-glare. "Don't flatter yourself."

"What?" Kryeen kept the game up, enjoying herself. "I had a student come in and tell me those exact words just a day ago."

His eyebrows lined in disbelief. "And what stupid oaf would say something like that?"

The woman folded her slender, worked hands. They were calloused and burnt, used hands. "Michael Corner, you know him?"

Ginny's previous boyfriend bubbled into his mind and the youth turned his scowl into a smirk. "Oh, I think he is just your type Blair."

The fiery witch chucked a book at his head and only his Quidditch reflexes kept him from having a nasty bump on the head.

She chuckled. "Alright, I really do have things to do. So why are you here?"

The black-haired boy gave her a look that almost made her want to crane her neck over to see if she had suddenly grown a few extra heads. When the immortal didn't recant, the seeker sighed and began his explanation in a highly impatient tone.

"I agreed to help you with your memories; so I should be there when you go through the scrapbook to answer any questions, tell you who it is your looking at, help prod thoughts out of that twisted brain of yours. Did you fry a few brain cells or did that extended trip to _nowhere_ give you a five-second memory?" He asked pointedly, hinting at the source of his annoyance with her.

Oh, of course. That completely trivial non-existing disappearance. She'd have to talk to Celia later about shutting that pretty mouth of hers.

The woman sighed. "Is it really that impossible for you to believe that I wasn't up to some insidious plot for one brief moment of my life?"

"Yes," Scar-face didn't miss a beat.

Golden eyes faced him finally with sharpness and inspection as she pondered something within the twisted complex of mentality that was the creature formerly known as Ally. The wizard stayed still, determined to meet whatever criteria she seemed to be thinking over because it just... irked him beyond reason that Blair would hide something from him. It wasn't the fact that he was closest, next to Daemon, to the strange sprite, or his natural curiosity kicking in so much as past experiences with gaps in his knowledge. However, all she seemed to do was blow him off with crude humor.

After a moment, Kryeen shifted her gaze to the leather-bound tome before her with all sobriety.

"All right then, let's take a look at your book shall we?"

Potter blinked in surprise. "Er—what?"

One eyebrow arched. "The scrapbook, my memories; we were just—"

"Yeah, yeah I know." The dark-haired youth quickly interrupted. "Alright."

Without flair, Aduru slid open the cover of the book and came face-to-face with the waving picture of James and Lily Potter holding a baby Harry.

"Those are undoubtedly the eyes I saw." Her finger carved an invisible little line across the paper, narrowing in careful speculation.

She flipped the page, coming to his parent's wedding photograph. A moment of peering, and with a frown and a shake of her head, it was dismissed.

Lily and James at a picnic, James posing in front of some foreign building of grandeur, Lily and an unknown blond female, Sirius and James looking buddy-buddy, Lily holding hands while Remus smiled sheepishly. The pages flipped without any recollection. They were nearly memorized by Harry himself; and still brought a decent-sized lump to his throat. When his professor came to the the page with an image of their Hogwarts graduation, she paused.

It was one of the orphan's personal favorites. Lily was standing at the podium in fine graduation robes; auburn hair combed back and familiar eyes bright as she opened her mouth to speak. However, her boyfriend had snuck up behind her and with freakishly similar features to his later son; grabbed her by the waist and laughingly declared for them to all have a,

"Jolly good time drinking to freedom! Go out and live everyone; but hell we'll miss this place!"

It was in fact, one of the few pictures that had a rather expensive and rarer cast that allowed a voice to carry through along with the moving people. Almost like a muggle voice recording, seventeen-year old James' Potter had his voice forever engraved in the memory album.

"Blair, do you remember anything?" The Chosen One felt required to ask after she spent nearly a full five minutes staring at the photograph without blinking or breathing, as it would seem.

Her index finger moved slowly, surely toward the brazen, proud, and beautiful figure of his father.

"That voice... it's his laugh." The Eposis had lowered her voice into a more contemplative tone.

_What! _The green-eyed prodigy swallowed his surprise with a simple, encouraging nod. "That's the voice you heard, are you sure?"

Blair shot him a look before nodding. Of course she was sure, she knew every figment of her past because it was all she had to study, to live on all these years.

"Right," The sixteen-year old took a steadying breath. "Now all we have to do is figure out why your last memories are of my parents."

"Harry," The DADA instructor said suddenly. "Tell me everything about them. And I mean _everything_."

§

**Day 3**

Owls and Flu Powder were the common use of communication for the wizarding world. However, as Umbridge proved a little less that a year ago, both of those methods were quite faulty. Due to this, the Order of the Phoenix had taken to using a messenger of... a different sort. Namely, finches.

A finch is a small, brownish bird that is fairly common in Europe and Northern America. They have rather tiny brains, little hunting skills, and no unusual traits; so are constantly overlooked. However, the Order had devised a way to put a spell on these insignificant little twitters. The spell allowed the caster to record up to five minutes of voice on one bird and direct it toward the receiver. The finch would then, guided by internal magic in its thimble-sized intelligence, find whoever the message was to be delivered to, open their beak and out tumbled up to five minutes of speech. Any more and the poor thing's conscious would collapse. Despite the time constraint, however, the birds proved to be useful simply because no one ever monitored the number of finches anywhere and so they were safe to send to anyone anywhere.

And currently in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, was receiving one of these finch-messages. In fact, he was a very important member, the head if he would take that name. He did take the name, however, of Albus Dumbledore.

_"They are already fully gathered and ready to deploy. It will be a simultaneous triple-strike. London first, just a terrorist plot big enough to distract us. Half an hour later, He'll divide his forces to attack the Ministry and the school at the same time. It is an effective strategy, Albus. The Auroras will be preoccupied with their own building and the Order will be divided into protecting both keeps... It's a good-sized force, my friend. Enough that if we try to hold both, we will only loose both and thus the war. I know it will be difficult on you, but Albus you have the influence alone to decide this. Do we stay and fight at Hogwarts or do we save the Ministry? I need your answer by tonight; borrow a finch from Minerva, she has the under the pretense of teaching kids to transfigure them into hats or something... My time is already up, but Albus, listen to me when I warn you of this. Don't allow personal feelings to intervene in your decision. Be a strategist, an uninvolved spectator. Choose logically, not emotionally as you are only too prone to. My greetings and hopes for a brighter tomorrow-"_

The Headmaster sat back in his chair, looking thoroughly used up and stretched over. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his sparkling blue eyes were dim with worry and knowledge. For you see, for those who love easily; both knowledge and power are a heavy burden. Because you are forced to make choices between the greater and lesser of two evils, rather than the good or evil of other, less significant people. And in order to help as many people as one can, there are at times, sacrifices that must be made. Even sacrifices that the person may not want to give up. As hard as it is to die a martyr, even more trying it is to sentence someone to martyrdom. Choice of death can be made honorable by noble men. Choice to kill is always painful; because even the worst of people have someone who would want to see them alive. If not, they would have simply died of empty hearts. So here we find the old wizard, stuck between his heart and his mind; duty over desire. And such a man was Dumbledore, that even as he looked for some complex design to save everyone, he had already decided against his own heart.

The silver-bearded man sighed softly and rubbed at his temples. He had been locked up in his office for the better part of the day and no open door had revealed itself to him. Finally defeated, he picked up his wand and opened the cage with a little, twittering bundle of feathers.

_I am sorry Harry, but you must stay strong through this._

§

**Day 4:**

When James' son walked through his door that evening for his daily training; a familiar figure was with him.

"Harry, Professor Kryeen;" Lupin greeted with a cordial nod of his head. "I was unaware that you were visiting. Should I put some tea on?"

Her glare almost twitched and the boy was wearing a unusual frown. "Professor, we have a few questions for you."

Detecting the seriousness of the inquiry, Moony dropped his pretense and nodded, ushering the pair in and closing the door. In custom, the more civilized of the two sat while the other stood proudly. Seating himself, the old DADA professor nodded for them to continue.

Potter fidgeted in his seat for a moment before resolution settled upon his handsome features. "My dad and my mum, did they happen to know someone called Ally or Anna? She would have been quite young and—"

The boy-who-lived stopped at the taut look on Remus's face. He had been looking healthier by the day after he lost his wolfish curse. However, something had struck the man so hard that it reminded Harry of that tattered, prematurely aged man on the Hogwarts Express who had given him chocolate after a dementor attack. If anyone had a right to be happy, it was the former werewolf and the teen regretted causing such an expression on his visage.

"I am sorry Professor, but it is really important to know anything about her."

Almost as if his voice was a spell, the older man's face loosened slightly until a more melancholic visage. "Where did you hear about her, Harry?"

Discretely, chartreuse eyes side-glanced at the silent woman. Just as subtly, she shook her head. The seeker turned back.

"I... can't say Professor, but please if you could just tell us everything you know."

Lupin looked between the two, and then let out a low sigh. "I won't even ask again; I don't think I'd want to know if it dealt with the two of you. Just... you are being careful, aren't you Harry?"

His gray-blue eyes searched the boy's own and he suddenly felt horrible for going alone to save Ginny, and for _playing the hero._ Isn't that what killed Sirius last year? Hadn't he learned anything? The scar on his arm, on his brow, did they mean nothing? So caught up was he in remorse, that he failed to notice his companion stepping forward.

"Of course he's not, he's your damn _Harry Potter _and you all have him playing the savior." Blair spoke in that deadly quiet of her that raptured much more attention then her normal loud-mouth voice. "However, I can keep him safe—even from the shit you all throw at him."

The meaning of the words left an uncomprehending silence until the last Marauder cleared his throat and found his mellow speech again. "Are you pledging your protection, Professor Kryeen?"

The witch scoffed. "Promises are words as flimsy and useless as the speakers. But if you wanted me to come out and say it so it fits into your tiny brain, fine. I feel like protecting the kid. Are you afraid I'm going to corrupt him or something?"

She could have said a string of swear words and called him a mangy half-breed, and Lupin wasn't sure that she would make him stop wanting to... _hug_ her, or something of that nature. Biting, offensive words were tossed aside to find the base. This boy who he had been training, who he had been watching after, who he loved; would be taken under the wing of the best protection. Dumbledore may be more reliable, but Blair was stronger. She was an incarnate of Old Magic, like the kind that saved the boy-who-lived the first time.

"What?" The fiery immortal demanded as both men in the room smiled a knowing, sincere look at her.

Bygones would be bygones.

But they could be Heroes too.

§

**Day 5:**

Her spell ricochet off the wall, inches from where his ear had been. A flash of sienna, and he was up again; waving his own wand into a fast design and sending a stream of red towards his partner. The witch conjured up a shield and deflected the jet of light; forcing the boy to tumble to the ground again or face being hit. Unfortunately, he hurled himself straight into a bookcase and the heavy tomes lifted from their shelves to pile onto his stocky frame.

"Ron, you alright?" She asked, striding up to the fallen mountain of text quickly.

"Fine," A muffled response came.

Hermione sighed, flickering her wand and causing the books to levitate off her...She blushed. Well they really couldn't be called friends after that night in the kitchens, now could they?But it wasn't anything official.

"Thanks 'Mione," Ron grunted as he rubbed his bruised solders and sat up on the tile floor of the spare classroom they had been given permission to practice in by McGonogall.

The clever 6th year made a nasal sound of exasperation and clumped down beside him. "Ron, what are we?"

His broad back tensed, muscles clenching even as the Weasley's face went purposefully slow. "Om... people... British... magic folk?"

The curly-haired girl poked his head lightly. "You know that's not what I mean."

The youngest brother sighed and a look of resignation came upon his pale, handsome face. "Look Hermione I... I don't know right now. Let's sort it out after the war and all this hell with Harry is over, what do you say?"

The wizard had actually closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, awaiting the fountain of protest. However, when only silence met him, he peeked one hazel eye open. Granger was smiling.

"You're—You're not mad?"

The mudblood shot him a playful glare. "I'm not that superficial you know, I do have priorities. And you are right. Helping our best friend and helping out in this stupid war as best we ca should come above... defining a relationship."

They both colored a little at her choice in words and then the youth looked back at this tiny bookworm who had grown into a fine young woman, something smoldering in his eyes.

"Hey Hermione," Ron scooted a little closer to her. "I know that our training and all to help Harry should come first; but do you think we have a little time for—"

The caress of her lips stopped his speech and he instinctively brought one calloused hand up to the back of her neck and thumbed at her brown locks.

After all, love had a magic of its own that could be just as powerful.

§

**Day 6:**

Ginny realized something as she sat in the Common Room, gazing out the window for inspiration on her Potions essay.

It was Winter, or February, to be precise.

The change of seasons, the festivity of Christmas an New Years—it had all passed over her in the midst of war and chaos and _Harry._

But in the quiet of the Gryffindor chambers, she had spotted the telltale flutter of tiny, white flakes. It was snowing, and she hadn't even realized the holidays had come and gone. This led the girl to another revelation.

Time was moving on.

Even in the middle of death and fear and confusion; life was continuing on as it always had. The seasons still switched off in their unpredictable dance, and the holiday would come whether or not it had anyone to celebrate it. Snow still fell, the water would freeze. Nature was not stopping for the play of mortals. As the Weasley daughter lengthened her gaze, she became transfixed with the only pine tree in view of her window; a splotch of evergreen on the washed-out horizon. It reminded her of another, enticingly evergreen object. A pair of them in fact, hiding shadows of his smile.

_You are a force of nature, Harry._ The red-haired girl smiled to herself before turning away from the snowy view and back to her essay.

_No matter what happens, nothing seems to stop you._

Autumn to Winter:

_Your family, the Dursleys, Fred and George used to always tell me what asses they were. I wish I could beat the shit out of them for what they did to you._

Winter to Spring:

_But then you came to Hogwarts, away from those pigs. I remember when I first met you, ha, I was such a child. You were... well you were hot and famous and in my old, run-down house. I was a little girl who just met her idol. Really, what was I supposed to do? I like to think, that despite my weirdness, you were happy at school; and at the Burrow._

Spring to Summer:

_And then I started to grow up. I never really grew 'over you', I suppose. I still think you're hot, and I still have... I don't know what... for you. But you weren't my life. I loved Quidditch, and I had my own friends. I was living, and you were always living somewhere else. But to me, I think Ron and Hermione made you happy. Happier then most people. Sirius, Lupin, Neville too. You have a lot of loyal friends. Hell, I think Mum likes you best. I told Fred one time that I thought everything you had right now was the world's way of compensating... for what you hadn't had all those years._

Summer to Autumn:

_But two years ago, Voldemort returned. It is always him, isn't it? Him or You. You or Him. I have this sickening feeling that your destinies are intertwined, and I don't even believe in such a thing. But you always sort of... danced in each others steps in some sort of twisted game. You save, he kills. You're Gryffindor, he's Slytherin. You love too easily and he hates too much. Yet at the same time, your lives are haunted by each other. As long as one of you is alive, it seems as though there is no peace for the other._

Autumn to Winter:

_But then everything slows down and I remember that no matter how frightened I may be, how much loss there is; how bloody awful this war is... that there is peace. There is always peace. Stillness, silence, beauty. It will all come in the end. I only hope you realize that Harry. Realize that before you do one of your damn heroics and get yourself killed because I think..._

_I just may love you._

§

**Day 7:**

Days later, the shock had begun to wear off and the strangeness faded with it. The entire puzzle didn't seem so mismatched.

Blair Kryeen was... could be...

Harry's mind reeled with the aftershock and rubbed his temples, forcing the facts to surface again.

_"Lily and James, had they been alive today, would be 40 years old today. Plenty of life before the, but..." Lupin cleared his throat and forced another soft smile. "As it is, Harry, you were born when they were 24. Of course, you were a wonderful accident in the middle of the war and we all loved you... sorry, I am reminiscing too much. Now, Harry did you ever wonder why your parent's took such precautions to protect you? A Secret Keeper, Old Magic?"_

_The boy in question shook his head, brow furrowing at the oddity._

_The ex-professor continued. "Well, they would have been extra cautious during the war, but even for the times the lengths they went to were extreme. You see, your parents feared loosing you because..." He trailed off, seemingly to find his words._

_The current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher made an impatient click in the back of her throat to which Moody through a dark look of humored exasperation before continuing._

_"Lily and James were a rare breed of people and had one of the truest loves I have ever seen. After dating several years in school, they were married young, at 17 and right after graduation."_

_At the surprised look in emerald eyes, Remus digressed. "Most people rushed into such things. We were in a time of chaos, on the brink of war, and it seemed that you had to rush your life... You have seen the wedding photos Harry, it was a wonderful event." He had to pause to swallow again. "By the time they were eighteen, they had their first child."_

Under a messy foliage of black bangs, the teen's eyes opened again. He sat up from under his four-poster bed and scooted over to the small pile of old newspapers at the end of the bed. The 6th year spotted which one he wanted and allowed his fingers to trace the faded black ink in the column of missing people. It was filled with names from the first war, but one little article stood out.

**_Name: Ally Anna Potter_**

_**Age: 6**_

_**Height: 3'6**_

_**Ally is the only child of the auroras James and Lily Potter. She was last spotted in the street outside her house two nights ago. If you have any information, please contact us.**_

Below the short profile was a wizard photograph of a young girl. Her straight, ebony hair was pulled back in a pink ribbon so you could clearly see her cream-colored skin with the flush of youth and wide, hazel eyes. She was skipping on a sidewalk, switching between beaming toothily at the viewer and watching her feet for something out of view.

Putting the paper down, the boy-who-lived rummaged through his papers to find a few old photographs he had been given.

_"Why wasn't I told?" Harry managed to croak out after a long lapse of silence._

_Moony gave him a sympathetic look. "Because you had already lost so much and there was so much on your shoulders—Harry, your elder sister disappeared a few months before you were even born, she never knew you... It just seemed like an unnecessary pain. Dumbledore—" _

He took out a picture of newly-wed Lily and James, and then the photograph of their little girl. Her father's hair, and unmistakably her father's eyes. But her emerging face structure, tiny bone formation was obviously her mother's. In fact, Harry could see some of his own tall and lithe frame growing in that girl. Today she would probably be heightened and slender, with sleek muscle; dark hair and brown eyes.

Unless of course...

_"Did you ever find out who took her? Where she was?" He asked Dumbledore the day after, finally getting a chance to speak with his busy Headmaster._

_"We did," The old man replied gently. "Your elder sister was kidnapped by a man named Tom Riddle... senior."_

Lord Voldemort's father had taken Ally.

He had taken her, killed her, transformed her...

_"Why are you doing this?" She asked in the gloom._

_He paused. "So you will kill my son."_

Until that girl had aged and met her savior. And in loosing him...

She became Blair.

Blair Kryeen was Ally Anna Potter.

His elder sister.

§

A/N: Hehe, who guessed that? I hope it wasn't too obvious since most people thought they wee going to become lovers... Alright, this story is winding up and I think I'm delaying the inevitable with slow updates—what has it been, almost a year? Two? Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone!

Chapter 35: The Countdown of Week Two

Chapter 36: The Final Day: Confrontation between Death and Voldemort

Chapter 37: Epilogue


	35. The Ring

§

**Day 8:**

Fenrir wove throughout the outskirts of the dark mass, his blood alive with the scent of death and the raw adrenaline of a fight approaching. The gray hairs on his mane stood like rigid sentinels, awakened with the proximity of fresh blood. Mother Luna was rounded and filled, granting an easy form into his wolfish body. His slitted, amber irises loomed over the left flank of Voldemort's army. Grayback was captain, leading his troop of werewolves, a handful of giants, and some of the darker creatures the Dark Lord had conjured from the four corners of the earth—vampires, silkies, banshees, ghouls—all those banished from magical society. The beasts of the force, all under his command. The shifter felt his pride stoked, casting a red howl to the moon. A ripple of excitement charged through the solders. They all knew what that sound was.

It was the promise of flesh and blood, pain and cries, a red moon and a black sun.

Resentment of the mortals rekindled their effort, and the army doubled its speed; running now instead of jogging. The emerald blades cut across multi-colored limbs, a silver light deepened the shadows of their movement. It was beautiful, ethereal, and horrifying.

The sound of a thousand pounds echoed across the hill, a lone sound in the wake of silence. The Sun would sleep tonight.

Fenrir let loose another howl, egging his platoon onward. They had to reach their mark before sunup. If not, the element of surprise would be lost. Of course, with all the ancient wards around their target; he wondered if there even was an element of surprise to be lost. All this counted too much on inside help too, for the werewolf's taste. However now he was free and aroused, so he let it be and charged on through the night.

The Beasts wavered only when they approached the village. The smell of humans so close made them want to abandon their quest and ravage Hogsmeade. Grayback felt their discontent and hastily ran himself to the other flank; placing himself between the village and the army. The whites of his fangs snarled in warning.

A vampire was the first to break rank, its pale skin stretching over the werewolf leader. Fenrir leaped, caught the half-bat creature between his jaws, and cracked his spine. It had to be a bloodless kill; for he knew that the crimson sight would cause him to loose his solders. Instead, the snap reminded the others of their place—and responsibility of that night. After all, even if Fenrir didn't get them; Voldemort would. Deserters were dead in the Dark Army.

The castle light came like fireflies, flickering in-and-out of his sight. The tip of the astronomy tower was a dark spiral against the velvet blue of the sky. Hogsmeade was growing darker in the distance. They were closing in.

The sun began to tilt, finally rising drowsily. It's rays were burnt and angry—cardinal lines thin on the horizon. There was still time.

Fenrir barked out an order and slowly and mass came to a halt. The wards had begun to push against his muzzle, burning his eyes. They had to wait for it to be lifted less the entire army be burnt through. So they stayed, shuffling and grunting with want for movement again. Their quarry was so close now, almost tasteable...

The magic was heavy and ancient, but it crawled loose. Grayback felt it inch upward after being released, reluctant to leave its comfortable land; sighing its way into oblivion. The ward lifted and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was in plain, obvious sight.

The Sun was a thin disk by now.

The werewolf smiled toothily, crying to his platoon.

As soon as the signal went off, they would come... To gorge and feast in blood and ash.

What Fenrir didn't know was that his call alerted someone still awake at this hour and very close to a rather large and open window. What he didn't know is that a pair of golden eyes narrowed at him from inside the castle. What he didn't know is that the owner to those eyes would lead in his demise.

§

"If they got in through the wards, there is a traitor in the castle." Daemon never announced his presence and Blair never flinched at its suddenness as he appeared; perched beside her on the windowsill.

"Ah," She replied, looking surprisingly serious with a lined brown and thinned lips. Icy eyes observed her for a moment.

"I thought you would be ecstatic—you love to fight."

Kryeen shook her head, finally glancing away from the window. "If that was all I would be happy. However there is a little matter of how the fuck they got in here that concerns me."

The phoenix peered over the railing once more. "You have an idea of who it is?"

"Two," The woman replied. "One more likely then the other."

Daemon's attention shifted back to her. "Then why don't you deal with it?"

The tri-color haired individual scowled. "If it is who I think it is; it is going to be one hell of a mess."

"Must be bad for you to care." The phantom-boy noted, hopping down from the scene and back into the relative safety of the bedroom. "Who is it?"

The DADA professor frowned, looking down in thought. "...I'll see.."

The scarlet bird blinked in surprise. "That's quite an accusation. I know you're not fond of most people Blair; but betrayal?"

Instead of answering, the witch turned away and began to gather a number of items. "You've been around me too much. You are beginning to talk like me."

"Blair, what are you doing?" The transparent youth finally asked as she strode around the room, gabbing random items and hoarding them by a table. Everything from last week's tea to a new dagger went into a small burlap bag sat out on the table.

"I want you to take your girl and get out."

"Pardon?" Daemon ruffled his feathers, squawking.

The immortal shot him a look. "Celia—take her and leave Hogwarts."

"Why?" He seemed to have forgotten his indignation at the connotation of himself and the Slytherin together.

All items successfully shoved in; she slung the pack over her shoulders. "It's going to get very bad tonight, Daemon; and you picked a fragile one. If you want to save her, get her out of here."

"She wouldn't leave without you and the boy," The blue-eyed creature murmured in his sing-song voice. "She is very fond of you, you know?"

Blair hesitated, then shook it off. "Whatever." She was out the door, slamming it without a care.

Her companion merely faced through the nearby wall, staying with her even, powerful strides down the hall.

"Why do I think you are about to do something undeniably foolish?" He sighed softly.

Aduru glared. "When am I not doing something you don't consider foolish? When I piss?"

Down the hall, to the left, up the stairs. They kept a quick, even rhythm with each other.

"Someone has to look after you; you would never do it yourself."

Across the platform, through the doors, make a right.

"Screw you."

"That'd be rather difficult."

"Bet your whore could find a way." Kryeen smirked at him knowingly

"That was uncalled for." He was calm, too used to this.

They faced a stone gargoyle and before it had time to demand a password, the Defense Teacher had shattered it into a thousand jagged, little pieces.

Daemon slowed his defense of Celia in sudden awareness. "Blair... you think it's Dumbledore?"

The grin on her sun-kissed visage was dark and daring. Skilled hands pushed at his tall office doors.

"Only one way to find out."

**§**

**Day 9:**

It was ten past five and Harry had to thank his invisibility cloak for his freedom of movement past curfew. Of course, Moody had taught him to cast several disappearing spells on him from going chameleon to distracting a person into thinking they couldn't see you. However, he was confident in neither to risk a possible detention on this late night—early morning trip. He paused, holding his breath as Filch past by; lantern lit and muttering jaded comments about kids and the old ways. His darting, watery eyes past by the hidden boy and down the next corridor. Harry released the air from his lungs.

The student inhaled and then began his trek again. In the tinkering silence of a slumbering castle, his mind began to wander.

_Of course, he wasn't upset at that. Ron and Hermione were perfect for each other—granted they both really needed to improve their kissing, it looked rather pathetic. Instead, he was angry that their relationship was all but behind his back. And said so plainly._

_"We weren't trying to hide it from you." Hermione sighed, cheeks loosing their flush. "Really, it's just—"_

_"—You were snogging in the broom closet and you expect me to believe that it was open? Do you think I'm thick or somet—" The black-haired boy spat with the overwhelming feeling of betrayal and injustice rising._

_"—We don't know what the hell to think about you anymore!" Ron cut in boldly. "We never see you anymore, hell we hardly know you!"_

_He wheeled to his best friend. "You think I want all this shit? That I like being the famous boy-who-lived? I've been training to fight against Voldemort, rescuing your bloody sister, and helping an immortal find her past—what the hell have you been doing? Tell me why Great Mr. Weasley can't manage to mention to his supposed best mate that he was... I don't know... dating his—"_

_"—Don't you dare say that we have been sitting on our bums!" The red-head roared. "We haven't done anything because we are looking for some bloody clue to help you. We've been in touch with the Order and their plans. We've been organizing a resistance and training program at Hogwarts! Tell me, when was the last time you spoke with the Order? Or Dumbledore? Or anyone besides that bloody witch? Tell me!"_

_They were in each others faces; noses almost touching and sinewy muscles taut for a brawl. Fire gleamed darker in each pair of eyes, clouding the twin visages._

_"Stop it, both of you!" The girl stepped in, bright-eyed before the fight got physical. She placed her fingers on Ron's arm, and stepped bodily in front of the other teen. "You're both being stupid again and we don't have time for that!" Her voice choked a little, but she kept glaring._

_It was practical, logical Granger. And she was about to cry in frustration or hurt or fear. But she would get them to listen to her, or so be damned. _

_"Ron, don't talk." The witch commanded; turning before he could protest. Her amber eyes stared straight into the emerald ones of the self-proclaimed hero and he looked down angrily._

_"Harry, we would never try to hide this from you, in fact I don't really know what we are myself." The muggle-born sounded weary suddenly, and there were noticeable shadows under her intelligent eyes. "We've been trying to help you, really we have. But you've become so distant to us, Harry. You spend all your time with Blair or Lupin—and I know it's important, I do." She added when he opened his mouth to protest. "But we can help you too, if you only give us a chance."_

_Potter didn't meet their eyes, feeling his cheeks burn in shame and guilt. He didn't reply, and only the crackling common room fire sounded. Then a rustle of cloth as he stood; finally ready to gaze at them both stonily. _

_"I'm not... I'm not like you." Scar-face murmured. "And I won't drag either of you into this."_

_"Harry!" _

_"Stay safe," The Chosen One turned away, giving a bitter smirk. "Because when I'm done with all this I want my best friends back."_

_The fire was drowned out by the echo of his footfall, the hollow of Ron's yell, and the sweetness of her cries._

Green eyes hardened, and his smooth brow lined. _It was for the best. They mean more to me then they know._

Shoving regrets in a musty corner of his mind; the Gryffindor 6th year strode down the familiar hallways and to the gargoyle statues.

"Butter Toffee," The seeker whispered from his cloak, knowing too well that the magical guardians would not be fulled by his cloak.

"'Tis a bit late, don't ya think?" The crooked-nosed one commented breezily as the stones jumped aside.

Without commenting, Harry took the last steps and raised a hand to knock on the door. He paused. There were voices.

"...And who are you, a fucking god..."

His insides froze, thawed, and did a few badly-performed cartwheels. Only one person would talk to Tumbledown like that. The wizard through open the door.

"BLAIR!"

"...deserves to have a life, to screw around—" The woman halted sharply as her name was soundly called with the thud of doors being hurled open. And there, silhouetted, stood the kid.

"Harry, I would prefer you to be a bit gentler to my doors next time." The headmaster finally commented after a brief pause. "However, as Professor Kryeen and I were just discussing you..."

"Stop the antics, you old windbag." She snapped, entire posture aggressive.

However, her last phrase buzzed loudly in his head. "Wait, I was the one who should... screw around?" The hero swallowed, cheeks coloring.

Aduru looked mildly abashed. "Poor choice of words, fine. I don't deal with kids. However, I was serious about what I said Albus," Her eyes flashed dangerously once more and the green-eyed youth stepped towards them, ready to jump between if anything rash happened.

"I won't let you fuck with his life. I'll kill you first."

"No one regrets this more than I, Professor Kryeen, I assure you." The wizened man eyed her with a cold strength; keeping his impeccable collection.

The immortal's hands slammed on the desk; causing it to spark and flame with the contact. "I don't give a damn about your regrets. You are playing him, you self-righteous bitch!"

"Language, Kryeen." Albus warned, a flicker of anger crossing his calm face.

"Shit, I should just—" The death-dealer's offensive gesture caused their subject to finally step in between his Headmaster and Professor.

"Blair, what is going on?" He demanded, folding his arms in front of a silent Dumbledore.

The fiery creature glared a very, very painful death to the wizard behind him before turning back to the charcoal-haired male in front of her. "Your beloved Headmaster is a fucking snake. He's allowed an army into Hogwarts."

Chartreuse eyes widened in surprise and his gaze flickered toward the blue-eyed man. "Professor, what is she talking about?"

"Harry," He looked worn, aged and saddened. "I did not break the wards to allow Voldemort's forces onto our school grounds. However, a large force is waiting near the dark forest. I had prior information of their attack. I would never have, however," He threw the girl a glance. "aided them."

"What about the Order? Or the Ministry?" Potter asked after a pause to process this information.

Voldemort had finally made his move.

The lines on Dumbledore's face deepened. "Alas, Voldemort divided his army into a double attack. I was forced to choose to send the Order... and out of the general good, I asked them to the Ministry. You must understand Harry, if the government fell; we would loose to many of our solders and thus the war. It was the only way, however painful for me to make."

His pupil reeled. Voldemort was attacking. The Order and the Ministry were not coming to help. The scar on his arm burnt painfully, and his vow sunk in deeper. _Protect._

Aduru Eposis lunged. "Backstabbing little piece of—"

And was caught by a fast-acting seeker as his elder had raised his wand. "Blair, calm down!"

Seething, the sprite-like woman retreated; more like a caged animal than human with a predatory gleam in her golden orbs.

"I have to do what I can to fight him. Professor Dumbledore did what he should have." The reluctant hero admitted with heaviness before meeting both their eyes. "Now if you'll excuse me..."

The door shut behind him, resounding.

Blair shot one last kill-you-a-thousand-ways glance. "Know that nothing but that boy's love protects you now."

Albus nodded his head. "That is all I have ever wished for."

Her eyes narrowed. "And keep in mind that I will do as I say. That kid is not your pawn any longer. I've burnt his cords."

Blue eyes were unreadable behind their half-moon spectacles. "We shall see."

Kryeen growled low in the back of her throat before following a patient Daemon out of the office.

§

**Day 10**

**"**What do you think he meant by that—going to challenge Voldemort?"

"He's trying to fight the entire war without anyone else." Celia replied, stroking the elegant head of the scarlet bird with a contemplative expression.

"Why? Doesn't he know it's impossible?"

The brunette smiled sadly. "I am sure somewhere he does. It's who he is, Daemon—a protector, a guide. He won't stand for others to be involved because then they could be hurt."

Arctic eyes flipped upwards to her beautiful face. "And you know all this..."

"Because I'm his friend; because of these eyes." The Slytherin admitted, keeping the movement of her hand even and comforting across his feathered neck. A comfortable silence passed; filled only with the faint calls of a bird and the toll of the wind through the windows. Winter was already passing, it would seem.

"I'm going to help him, Daemon." She sounded determined, and it surprised her more than him. Confidence was something a harlot wasn't used to. When had that happened?

The phoenix let out a small, musical sigh. "I know. I am too."

Magnatine blinked. "Why?"

He shifted his graceful form, a flush of red in her lap. "Because Blair is going to fight for him, and I've always been by her side."

The girl didn't reply immediately, processing this bit of declaration. "She really loves him, doesn't she?"

"She thinks they are true blood family."

"And you really love her."

"... She's hard-headed and rash, but she is hurt and loving too. She's all I have left of my brother, and in our own way; I suppose we love."

Celia smiled regretfully. "Blair is an amazing woman."

The translucent boy seemed to understand the words. "So are you."

§

**Day 11:**

When Harry found Lupin's room empty; he felt truly alone. Granted, he didn't want the man involved in this fight either; but at least his advice would have been nice. Yet the dark, musky state of the classroom was enough to tell him that it had not been occupied for at least a few days. And he had been so busy with Blair that he hadn't even said goodbye to the last Marauder...

Suddenly, he felt very much like a child in a world too big for him. What the hell was he doing, sixteen and facing the greatest Dark Lord to ever have lived? God, he still had issues with a Sleeping Draft Potion! Why had he been so sure, so damn set on doing this? Could he even do this?

Doubt grew as he trod down the hallway. However, his wandering eyes spotted a spit of light, and curious; his feet turned toward it. The gold-engraved doors of the classroom were familiar. Inside, the fire-light glow and walls painted with phoenix, floors of red and gold—all of it was strangely comforting. Even more so, was the young woman sitting behind the largest; yellow-wood table with a strange text in front of her and eyes narrowed in concentration. Her finger played with a curly lock of cardinal hair as she read.

His sister. It sounded so strange, and yet...

"What's bothering you, kid?" He found himself fixated by bird-like irises.

...so easy and sound; as if it always was.

"Spit it out, I don't have ESP."

The boy blinked, unable to wipe a sentimental smile from his face. "I'm just... I just was trying to figure out the best time to... attack."

Professor Kryeen looked back down at the volume; but continued the conversation. "Daylight, of course. Those beasts have the advantage during the dark. Plus, my powers work better under the Sun."

He stared.

She glanced up again. "What? Think I'd let you go out and get yourself killed with some act of idiocy?"

The seeker shuffled his feet. "Well..."

"Tch," The tri-color haired woman tossed the locks behind her neck. "Not after all the work I've done to save your ass."

Potter didn't reply immediately. After a short mental debate, he took the final feet between them and rolled up his robe to expose his left forearm. "Do you see that?"

Faintly annoyed, the immortal turned her attention to the protruding limb. There was a pale, pink line faintly drawn on the tanned skin.

"I did that myself, during the summer. I promised that I would protect everyone I cared about. That means that I have to fight Voldemort, and I have to do it alone."

The lines on her brow deepened and red lips thinned.

"I know I haven't been doing a very good job but—"

"Harry," Aduru began, capturing his emerald gaze. "Do you know who helped Lupin live again, who gave him the will to live?"

"You turned him hu—"

"No," Again, the witch cut him off crossly. "I only undid some beautiful magic. But it was you who helped him over his grief and reintroduced him to society as your teacher. And Ron and Hermione, how would they have met without you? Ginny Weasley—she'd be a corpse in the Death Eater's hands without your intervention.

"You bailed us out." The dark-haired teen pointed out.

"Only after she was already safe." The flavored witch reminded him. "And I would have killed that old shit tonight if you hadn't showed up."

"Dumbledore—"

The Death Dealer held her hand up. "Never mind that. The fact is Harry, that you've done more for people then you even realize. Celia just came to me and asked to help. That girl wouldn't have fought for her own soul a few months ago. Your heroics—stupid and irritating as they are, have a strange ability to help people. And while that entire vow is silly shit—which it really is, mind you—you have fulfilled it."

Harry sucked in his breath, unable to reply as the DADA teacher continued her rant.

"But boy, it's time you remember that you are only human. More than that, you're sixteen years old. You have a right to live and yes, screw around." Her molten eyes were hard. "And I've got nothing better to do then help you. Your friends, useless as they may be, will help you too. This can't be done alone... Why the hell are you smiling?"

And despite her protest, the wizard couldn't wipe the grin off his face. "Thanks, Blair."

§

**Day 12:**

Ron was first reminded of the DA days, when their little group practiced in secret against the threat of the dark army. It was a lot like that, he realized. A little less secretive, a little more desperate; and including one more dangerous sprite helping lead it. His brown gaze swept the room. It was more exclusive though—maybe twenty or so students and all he knew by name.

"Professor Blair screened everybody Harry requested." His girl... _friend, _murmured in his ear. "Only the applicants that past were allowed to join.

He frowned, lining his brow. "Why weren't we screened?"

The clever girl shot him a look. "We were, remember that little test in the beginning of the year?"

The red-head only deepened his look. "No one managed to beat her."

"For Heaven's sakes Ron; she's an _immortal_. We weren't supposed to defeat her!"

"Hmph," The youngest Weasley son crossed his arms for a contemplative moment. "At least that idiot is finally letting us help."

As if hearing his name; his best mate sent an apologetic smile from across the room.

"Took him long enough, stupid." Granger commented fondly.

"Shut it, she's talking!" Ron hissed back as Blair began her speech—her brother at her side.

"Alright, kids, shut the hell up and listen. Voldemort—no flinching, that's pathetic—has deployed a section of his army to attack this school. No, don't gasp; shut the fuck up! Thank you. Now, it is composed mainly of non-human creatures. These include vampires, werewolves, and a few lesser ghouls such as banshees and stuff. Now if anyone is too chicken to continue, go back to your dormitories and wait to be eaten, mutilated, or whatever the limited capacity of creative torture the Dark Army has."

No one left and Harry shot her a reproachful look, which; she in turn ignored.

"Right then; Potter here has told me that you all are used to facing Voldemort's—I said NO FLINCHING—forces. I have personally screened all of you; and every one of you has the potential to survive for than five minutes out there."

"Blair," Daemon, in phoenix form, reprimanded sharply in his high voice.

"Anyways, we have gathered you here tonight to compose a small patrol that should defend the castle. Questions before I continue? Oh, and no; that old sk—"

"Blair..." It was Harry this time who called her down.

She cleared her throat. "Your _Headmaster_, isn't going to help. Neither is the Ministry. No one is coming to aid you, in fact."

There was a hush around the room.

"So, here is where the army is stationed." The teacher waved her hand and a map pulled out from the air, marked with little black dots showing the platoon outside the castle.

"They number one-hundred and fifty in all; not even a fraction of his army but strong because their beasts. Now, for the attack plan..."

"Hey, Ron;" Hermione whispered next to him.

He didn't look down to her. "Yeah?"

"You think we'll live through this?" Her eyes were wide and frightened.

"You better, because I'm making sure I am."

She smiled, leaning against his slightly. "I'm glad though... that we can finally help."

And despite himself, Weasley grinned a little too. "Yeah."

§

**Day 13**

Celia blinked in mild surprise at the other girl, already waiting inside the golden classroom. "Professor Blair called you here too?"

She turned around at the noise, orange locks swinging with the movement. Her face was pretty, pale, and familiar. "Yes, I know you, don't I?"

"Ginny Weasley," The Slytherin nodded cordially. "I'm Celia Magnatine."

"Oh right," The 5th year nodded, putting on a happy face. "You're a friend of Harry's aren't you?"

The brunette shook her head. "And you are too, if I recall."

Her expressive face fell a little. "Something like that..."

Before an awkward silence could fall in the lull of conversation; a slender figure appeared from behind a wooden door.

"Ah, you two. Perfect timing." Kryeen filed down the stairs and sat down on the nearest desk. Used to her manners, the students followed suit and each picked a chair.

The woman smirked. "Now, I have some business to talk with each of you. It involves to boys I think you both know fairly well—Potter and Daemon."

Both girls nodded.

"Well, you see; as their sister-figure I'm supposed to know shit about them that they don't say. And the reason I've summoned you both is because each of those brats has fallen in love with each of you."

"What?!" Ginny exclaimed before she could bite her tongue.

Celia was only slightly more reserved. "Professor Blair what are you saying, if you please?"

"Oh Celia, stop with the pleasantries. I'm not going to bite." The DADA professor snapped. "Anyways, yes. Harry is in love with Ginny but refuses to admit it because of some heroic-sappy, whatever. Daemon is in love with Celia but won't say so because he's a vain little curd. But that is beside the point."

The witch continued as if she hadn't just told the teenagers that they were loved, and indeed, why they had not been told why they were loved.

"You see, I have an annoying bond to both of these idiots—I seem to collect them. It is an attachment, if you will. And the blight of my existence. Anyways, these horrible bonds demand that I do something and it involves the two of you."

It would seem that Ginny was finally recovering from shock; and almost had her tongue working again. "What the hell are you saying?"

The eldest female's demeanor changed in an instant; just as the shadow flew across her visage. "If something happens to me, it is obvious that I won't be able to watch Harry or Daemon anymore. And due to the fact that they are in love with you, I have chosen you to watch after them. Both kids are powerful in their own right; but they're stubborn and noble and have a bad habit of putting the ones that they care about first. They'll need someone beside them to look out for them, and remind them of their limits. You need to do that; because I won't be able to anymore."

"Professor, what are you saying?" The seer whispered in alarm, searching her smirking, shadowed face. "What's going to happen to y—"

"Not important." Blair snapped. "I just need both of you to remember what I said. I'm not going to make you promise or any shit like that; but I know you'll do this for me." She stood as if to leave.

"Wait, Blair; what's going on?" The Weasley daughter demanded as she stood as well.

"I've said my piece," The immortal snarled. "Now out, both of you."

"But—"

The door slammed shut behind the two girls, who quickly retreated to their separate rooms.

"I wasn't aware you were that caring." The airy, soft voice came from the shadows.

Aduru Eposis turned to face her fellow immortal.

"I don't give a damn what you think, Astor. Are the preparations set?"

His pale, handsome face nodded. "Blair... what do you intend to do about the war? Can you really end both?"

She smiled, bitterly. "Ah, it's a bit ironic though."

He stood, as patient as always.

"Ending it after I finally found something to live for."

The wind immortal frowned. "Are you willing to die for them—the boy and the bird?"

The woman once known as Ally closed her eyes. "That's the easiest thing in the world, for me to give."

Astor turned, alighting himself once more on feathery wings. "Perhaps you and the boy are not so different after all."

§

A/N: Dundundun—the final day coming up!


	36. To Win, Ergo I Die

§

_Goodnight my Sun,_

_Goodnight my friend_

_Rest your soul at this_

_Long Day's End._

_The fire inside_

_Will warm our night_

_and Daddy's arms will_

_Hold you tight._

_Dream of summer skies_

_Sunset is bound to each sunrise_

_Rest if your first right_

_My friend goodnight_

_This world spinning_

_Time always winning_

_The silver chain keeps thinning and_

_This is just your beginning_

_Sleep my friend_

_At last be free_

_No we won't forget_

_Our merriest melody_

_Go to another place_

_Of carousel rides 'round an angel's face_

_I'm sure we'd both laugh at the sight_

_My friend Goodnight._

-'Goodnight My Friend' performed by Vertical Horizon

§

_"Listen to me my Ally. I have loved you, and even when this body decays, I will still love you. But you are great and something above this petty world. If you forget even my name in time, remember this: You are meant for great deeds, my love, for the world has not yet taken you. So do not let this world have your heart—it is the only thing any of us can truly claim..."_

_A heart,_ She mentally repeated, staring out at the dawning light. The orange-tinged sky warmed her taut skin, casting its new light over her bent form; crouching on the upper windowsill. _It is what all immortals must loose in order to achieve their power—it is what I was to give up to complete my ring of magic. I am a death-dealer, the Aduru Eposis, I have no need for mortality. Yet..._

He was a troubled youth, bearing a lightening-shaped scar and a deeper wound over his soul.

He was a phoenix phantom with a love for philosophy.

"I do," She whispered into the light breeze picking at her strange; coiling hair. "I do love. I do have a heart."

The woman felt his presence behind her; faint and airy, and choose not to respond just yet. Golden eyes surveyed the spiraling castle; cast in magnificence for the morning.

_I came looking for a past..._

A photo album—Lily and James Potter. Their child Ally Anna.

a_nd I found a future._

Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons at the castle, spatting with Severus Snape, listening to Celia and her visions.

But the thick tomb of Salizar Slytherin burned against her breast, and suddenly that door was shutting; last shaft of light mingling with the sun's first rays.

"It's a little bit ironic, isn't it?" Kryeen spoke to her silent companion leaning against the gray stone of Hogwarts School. She didn't look at him as her voice continued. "It is only after I find a life; that I should give it up."

He moved behind her, light and graceful. "Blair," Astor replied with a detached remorse in his fair eyes. "There is still time if you wish to turn back. I am doing this for Larka; for our love which has been manipulated and stretched beyond all reason. I want an end. If you—"

The witch glanced at him, a devil-may-care smile stretched over her alluring visage. "I have a brother, Astor. I have two of them; in fact. And I am not willing to watch either of them die for the sake of heroics... besides," She winked in her troubling way. "I always wanted to screw death over."

The wind immortal gave her a grateful smile. "They are lucky to have someone like you."

With a languid stretch, the queen of fire unfurled the great ivory wings. The tight metal of her wrist guards clanked slightly with the movement. "Nonsense, I am as mischievous and immoral as they come."

Astor picked up the wind, preparing to shift. "Undoubtedly. However, you are also as protective and passionate as any person ever has been, and will ever be; I should think.

"All the way?" Blair glanced toward the large, snowy swan in the man's place.

"It's the only way." Astor's musical voice came strange from the black beak.

She turned back to the sun; its low disk already igniting the horizon in deep reds and flashy yellows. A sunrise.

_Blayne, Daemon, Harry; the three men I have loved in such different ways. For each of you, I have been made and molded. For my great deed will be you. So now I leave my second home, to save for the sake of the first..._

The human vertebrae snapped and tawny skin stretched and reddened to a brilliant, gossamer cardinal red. Sweeping feathers spread from her nape down; and the wild eyes narrowed while angled features sharpened.

_If there was ever fate; it was meeting you... Harry Potter._

A phoenix and swan took wing in the morning of the fourteenth day; companions to hell.

§

The golden trio were gathered in the common room once more. The addition of Ginny was a welcome, easy presence. However, as the first signs of sunlight pierced through the red curtains; a tense energy sat over the long-time friends.

This could very well be their last sunrise together, and the knowledge was suffocating.

"We've been training, taking the DA members and others. They're young, but we could fight." Hermione began, trying to keep her stern voice from shaking.

The memories of the night in the Ministry rushed back, and the boy-who-lived felt a prick from the scar on his arm.

_I will protect them. I must protect them._

It wasn't even selfless anymore. If anyone else died... he would die with them. It was frightening; that veil, that void. And he was still a child, crying out for those he loved. No, it wasn't selflessness. It wasn't chivalry; it was need.

"Everyone almost died at the Ministry, Hermione." Harry replied softly, feeling too old and weary for his sixteen years. "You got lucky with a killing spell, Neville broke his nose, Ron went mad; Ginny was lost..."

"It'll be different this time." The said girl perked up, desperate and defiant. "We're older, stronger. Besides, we're on home turf. We could win this time."

Potter felt his heart break somewhat when he looked into her glowering amber eyes and knew she was so ready to die for him. All three were. It made him feel ill.

"There is an army of dark creatures waiting outside that the Order itself couldn't fight. And they're not coming because right now the Ministry of Magic is under assault as well. What do we have? A handful of underage wizards? It wouldn't even be a battle; more like a massacre." The boy's voice sounded hollow to his ears.

Ron clenched his fist, loosing his temper. Not because he was in denial; but because even through his self-imposed void, he still knew his best mate. He knew what was coming even after a year of separation, of detachment. "Well then what do you suppose we do? Sit on our asses and wait for night so they can strike!"

The muggle-born laid a calming hand on his arm on impulse and the red-head turned brusquely away.

The dark-haired boy surveyed them with a tender pain. God, he loved them all.

"No... we strike a bargain with them." Potter replied carefully avoiding the hurt look in the Weasley daughter's irises.

Granger swallowed. "W-What kind of bargain?"

She knew. Already, she knew exactly what path was the easiest solution... but the hardest to walk.

His green eyes looked up, staring simply at her until she started shaking.

"Harry," Hermione pleaded. "Harry, no. There has to be another way."

"We're not letting you do this!" Ron snapped, gripping the armchair until his knuckles whitened. "I don't care if I have to knock you out with one of Snape's bloody potions and tie you to the Whomping Willow; I'm not letting you!"

Ginny was all but silent. "You want to trade yourself—for us."

The emerald-eyed wizard nodded slowly, the numbness swelling through his veins. "It's the only way... no one else will be effected."

"No one else will be—" His best friend sputtered, standing up with a flaming face. "Bloody EFFECTED? Hell, this isn't your BLOODY WAR alone! You need help to fight Voldemort!" He was too angry to even hesitate at the name. "You can't just go on playing some bloody HERO as if we were all too weak to defend ourselves! Well guess what, WE'RE NOT! We're just as damn good as you are and—"

"I heard the prophesy that night... I lied, but I heard it." Harry cut him off swiftly with a penetrating look. "'Neither can live while the other survives'", that is what it said. Either I have to kill Voldemort or he must kill me. That is our fate."

Bleached of color, the elder Weasley crumbled back into his armchair.

"But, fate can be changed." If he had ever loved a girl, it was her. "Can't it? You don't really have to fight him...Harry?" She wasn't begging, but the chaser was hard, hurt.

"Oh, stupid!" Hermione gasped before breaking out into tiny sobs. "It is the only way, isn't it you damn Chosen One?!"

Ron made a move as if to go to her; then reconsidered and settled back down into the cushions. His wide, muddy eyes stared once more at the tragic teen.

"You're going to die, aren't you?"

Emerald eyes shut, black bangs falling over them as the wizard stood. With one last, long look behind him—he walked out of the Common Room.

The images burned themselves as much as the lightening-bolt scar on his forehead did.

A ghostly, still Ron Weasley.

Hermione Granger, huddled in a corner and giving angry little hiccup-sobs.

And that silly, auburn-haired girl with tears streaking quietly down her pale cheek.

_I'll save you. _

§

The troop of Dark Army beasts were moody and snappish in the light. The invincible euphoria of their night chase had swept away; leaving them disgruntled at their defenselessness during the day. A handful of the platoon—vampires, shifted werewolves, and the like—were forced to resort to sheltering in the Dark Forest on the grounds for fear of the penetrating vibrancy.

All in all, Fenrir was in a very brooding mood. He was able to keep his wolfish form in the light of day, however it took a greater deal of energy than he cared to admit. His weakness combined with the solder's agitation had made the Death Eater captain a foul person to cross. Even the giants in all their stupidity shifted a little from the path of their werewolf captain.

Grayback was forced to stop his snarling stalk through the forces when a small, skiddish harpy hobbled itself toward him. The winged creature bowed its feminine head thrice before talking in its scratchy, high voice.

"My apologies captain, but you sent for a messenger."

The wolf-man gave a predatory grin when he surveyed the messenger. Colorful, scaly, and with a grotesque combination of beauties; the harpy was a perfect species to scare the shit out of that meat-boy.

"Yes, I need you to fly up to the castle and deliver a message to the boy... Potter."

The harpy seemed distressed at this news, squawking and hopping up and down on its talons. "But master, how am I supposed to get close to _him_?"

In a flash, Fenrir had turned. He tackled the smaller creature down, snarling in its face and threatening with his endowed fangs. Disgust and fury were evident in his wild, yellow eyes. "Don't have such fear for a _meat-bag_; you piece of filth! The boy will come to you; just wait outside his window near his sleeping chambers. Do you understand?" His front paws pressed painfully into the tough harpy skin.

With a painful screech, the harpy was released. She hobbled a few steps away from the dangerous turncoat, before bowing with indignant eyes. "Yes, master." She stiffly muttered and spread out her sickly green wings; the folded parchment within her large talons. Within two beats, the harpy was airborne.

The captain watched her go with morbid satisfaction, trotting away from the spot to finish his inspection.

_Harry Potter... you die tonight._

§

The swan and the phoenix landed, side-by-side, next to the dark sheen of the castle lake. A petite, slender woman with foamy skin and ocean blue hair was sitting on the edge, feet dipped in the water. Her turquoise eyes narrowed as the phoenix lengthened and lost its red color to the tanned skin of a young woman. She stood, gathering the elegant swan up in her arms and glaring openly at her opposite.

"I don't like you; or trust you." Larka spoke with unconcealed fury to the fire immortal. "But for Astor's sake... for our sake... I'll work with you."

Blair shrugged off her hate with surprising disinterest. "I'm only here to defeat Death. I don't really give a damn why you are helping." She hissed in response, but was cut off before she could interrupt. "Now, should we get started?"

Larka sealed her mouth shut, readjusted her grip on Astor's white body, and nodded curtly.

"Well then," The Aduru raised her palm; allowing the white-hot power to focus there. Ancient words, beautiful and ethereal, spilled from her tongue and scorched her throat.

_For this breath, I unite the two tortured souls._

The crackling spell wound about the two immortals of water and wind, igniting upon itself in crescendo. It reached a climax of white fury, and then cleared with just as much dramatic suddenness. Astor, in his human form, stood beside his immortal lover.

Impulsively; hungrily, the pair embraced as if to fuse together and never be separate again.

"Astor, my wind... my oxygen, my life." She murmured into his white chest.

"I am here, Larka—my love, my sea." He whispered into the whorl of her ear.

Kryeen waited patiently for a moment, before stepping forward. "The release won't last long. We need to get started _now_."

The woman tensed, looking as if she might protest for. However, Astor prevented any brawl by removing himself from her arms and nodding. "I am ready." He stuck his limb out, unblemished hand waiting.

Larka was next, placing her own appendage atop of her lovers. To complete the ring, Blair added her far darker palm to the trinity.

The unholy trinity. The three death-dealer looking to end Death.

Old magic stirred at the forces they called. The very entities of life in the souls of the dead. It spurred and the earth groaned as it felt it summoned, straining to pull the life-blood from its core to aid in their effort.

Fire-Water-Wind: The three life-bearers and destroyers. A perfect balance of each other.

The magic spiraled and stung the atmosphere, creating a low hum which added to the gothic music of the dead language spilling off their tongues like poisoned honey. The sun itself pulled back its pursuit of the shadows and turned brilliant rays toward the eye of power. Colors flashed—the crimson-tangerine of flame, mixed topaz of sea, and periwinkle-cream of sky.

_The children of the gray sea call to their master beyond the gate._

_The warriors of life come back home to the end._

_The Death-Dealers return to Death. And all is as it should be._

Life, the very side of this realm, began to rip at the tug from the scythe of ancient forces. It snagged at the focal point, and then began to pull. Finally, the border between the two world tore. Like a seam, it unraveled slowly and unwillingly; protesting to the end. But the power of the last immortals was great, and surely the gap opened wider. It was a colorless river, slate against a backdrop of early morning sky, dewy grass, and cerulean lake. It was as though a patch of a painting had yet to be colored in. Their chanting rose, and soon the portal was large enough for a man to step through easily.

Astor was first to break the trinity, dancing upon the wind and turning into the hole. His glowing form was swallowed up, unseen.

Larka gave Blair a final look, one without malice and instead, gratitude; before stepping out of the circle of magic and into the gap. She vanished behind him.

Aduru Eposis was now left in the tempest of ancient, true-blooded magic. Carefully, she shifted the words bleeding from her lips.

_Seal the wound in this land._

_Let it be no more than a passing of these memories._

_Leave no scar so resembling that of my heart._

With a force of will, Kryeen stepped through the cutting magic—feeling it eat at her flesh and drink of her blood—deft hands pinched the ends of the portal and worked it shut with competing magic. She was like a seamstress, and through her power and blood, the gray sea was once again serrated from life.

The magic died at once, and fire immortal collapsed in blood and sweat upon the grass. Panting, the woman managed to prop herself up on her hands. Red dribbled down her chin from her throat that was burnt from the force of the dead language.

_Astor, Larka... you know what to do. _Blair breathed in deeply, pulling herself sharply up and stumbling. Determined, honey irises gazed back at Hogwarts. She fell again, squinting in the mud and hulling her exhausted body back up.

_I don't have much time... let's end this, Tom._

_§_

The harpy messenger did not find her quarry in his bedroom, as her captain had suggested. Rather, she cornered him in the Owlery, right after sending off a letter to the last Marauder, who would undoubtedly be worried about him.

With a cackle, the winged fiend dropped the roll of parchment into his stony hands and flew off. The black-haired teen now sat reading it, his free hand stroking the fine feathers of his long time pet and companion. Hedwig seemed to sense something was amiss, as she pecked him affectionately and gave no protest at the lack of attention recently.

His mind, half-thawed, read out the coiling, neat handwriting with a certain amount of loathing.

_Harry,_

_By now you must see that your beloved castle will fall at my command tonight. My troops will penetrate your defenses without resistance. Your adored Tumbledown has left Hogwarts open for the sake of his 'greater good'. Everyone in that school will die tonight. Since I am forgiving, however, I shall allow you a chance to save them. Come to the Quidditch arena at noon today. You and I will duel, and we shall see who lives and who dies. Who does fate favor, the Good or the Powerful?_

_I'll await your arrival._

_-Lord Voldemort_

The end address was written especially elegantly and embellished, as if to prove some point. The note crumbled in his fist as the boy-who-lived crushed its delicate surface and looked out the window to the free expanse of sky and land.

_Noon... it's just a few hours away. _

His other hand was still absently petting the snowy owl, who he now turned to and lent a half-smile to.

"Sorry I haven't been up to visit much, girl." Scar-face murmured, earning an accepting 'hoot' from the beautiful bird. "But I'm afraid this might be goodbye..."

Hedwig clicked her beak in dissatisfaction at these words, brilliant eyes staring at him imperiously.

Her lean master chuckled softly at her antics and pat her large head. "Don't worry. Ron and Hermione won't let you starve. Hermione needs an owl anyways; what with only that damn cat..."

The bird let out another little hoot, a gentler one as if she sensed his sorrow and was offering some form of owl-comfort. With a final pained-grin; Harry stood up and removed his hand from her cage.

"Stay safe, alright?"

The owl simply cooed in reply.

§

Golden eyes slid open. Their viewpoint was skewered, a rectangular slit of side-ways ferns and dirt. They blinked from the pressure settling on their long lashes. The water seeped into her skin like awareness.

Blair shot up. Mud slid from her tight face and ran down slender arms as tangled hair threaded wetly across her face. The morning sun was long gone, obscured by the gray clouds unloading their heavenly burden. She shivered before mentally rekindling her inner flames.

The woman was beside the lake, where she had completed the ritual. She had collapsed shortly afterward, unnoticed in the downpour. Time. Time had passed.

"Fuck!" The witch snapped as she ignore the weather and regained her footing.

_How long have I been like that?_

The most important fight in her life, and she passed out. Damn, what luck.

Wild-eyed; the professor sprinted back into the looming shadow of the castle. Her feet tore up trek and breath puffed little signatures in the air as Blair scaled the rock walls with deft expertise. Her lean, dripping frame propelled itself through a first story window. The glass shattered, and her booted feet landed on the ornate carpet with a dull thud. Without missing a beat, the immortal kept on moving.

Pushing and bullying her way through throngs of students, Kryeen sped up the stairs and along winding hallways of her strange, unwitting home. The familiar landing stretched before her and without so much as a pause before the indignant Fat Lady; _ripped_ the portal doorway open.

The Gryffindor stragglers, dressed in their school robes and all wearing expressions of bewilderment, all stared at the appearance of their latest Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor.

With a quick sweep of her caramel irises, Blair locked on the pair she had been searching for. "The brat?"

The curly-haired witch suckered in her breath and the freckly boy beside her replied in a hoarse tone. "Harry's gone to face _him_."

_Fuck! _Chorused in the Aduru's head. "When?"

"We... We peaked at his note; he left it in the Owelry..." The bookworm brunette found herself rendered able to talk once again. "The Quidditch field, noon."

"Time?"

"Five Till."

"Damn it all!" Kryeen screeched at no one in particular before turning her attention once more to the pair. "And what the hell are you two doing up here? Let's get a move on it!"

Hermione opened her lips to protest, however Ron beat her to it.

"We'll be there in ten."

Surprised, the girl looked back at Weasley; who shrugged. "It's not like we could actually stay here while that bastard was out fighting for us."

Granger smiled slowly. "I'll call all of our troops. Get the gear ready."

As the two parted ways, their strange messenger was already barreling down the opposite way she had come just a moment ago. Ignoring the glares and yells, the last death dealer raced across the landing and down several flights of steps; taking them two at a time and hopping over the inconvenient one that felt the need to change mid-way.

"Stupid kid," Blair hissed between clenched teeth as she made her way to the double doors. _Him and his chivalry shit. Dumb fuck; why the hell does he have to go and... he can't win, the little shit has to realize that even though he's strong; he can't win. He cares too damn much; he loves. You can't murder for the sake of saving! It doesn't... FUCK!_

The rain pattered off her body, steam rising from the reaction as Blair stepped outside toward the field in the distance.

§

If he closed his eyes; he could almost pretend that it was just another game. One more time to enjoy the rush of the wind past his ears, the high of quick scanning eyes and the rush of blood to his head as he dove to catch the minuscule golden snitch. The crowded stadium would irrupt in a series of cheers and clapping. And in the center of it all, he would land; smiling through the sweat at the euphoria and swell of pride for his team.

Except this wasn't a Quidditch match. As the jade eyes cast open, they saw only the empty grayness of rain. There was a terrible loneliness that filled his chest; aching so bitterly that he almost wished Voldemort were here for his company, as horrible as it might be. This was the true weight of the prophecy, of the famous boy-who-lived.

He was to live alone in friends; and die in solitude.

Harry sensed the approach of his nemesis before his blurry visibility spotted the tall, dark figure. It was like a black stain on dark carpet—made all the infinitely more prominent by the blackness that surrounded it.

The Dark Lord moved without noise across the wet grass, the tailored ends of his robe swiping in its muddy blades. The rain silhouetted a lanky, powerful mass snaking toward him.

The green-eyed youth made no noise as the wizard stopped; one hundred feet parallel to him. Slowly, the spider-like fingers removed the hood which shielded the face of horror itself.

The last Potter was shocked. Not that the white; inhuman visage had changed, or the red eyes had gotten any less malicious. No, what surprised him had very little to do with the appearance of Voldemort, and much more to do with the enigma.

He wasn't afraid.

This was the man who had murdered his parents. Who was the most feared dark wizard to ever roam the earth.

And he wasn't afraid.

Harry searched himself, checking in the dark nooks of his mind for that familiar; stab of fear which he would coil into anger and use to fight. But no where in his soul was there any more hesitation; any more fright. Instead, a rather determined calm had filled its place. For a moment, the black-haired boy wondered at it. But other than the rather splitting headache his scar was causing, he was fine. And then it hit him.

He was willing to do this. Willing to die for them. No, more than willing.

He was ready. He was expecting not to walk away from this duel.

"Harry Potter," The serpentine voice interrupted his thoughts, diverting his attention back to the pale figure which glared at him with open loathing. "It has been too long."

Harry drew his wand; allowing the precision to settle into him. "Let's end this."

No, the boy-who-lived did not anticipate that he would hold that title for much longer.

Voldemort smirked, drawing his own wand. The twin. "Your love for them will be your death."

Potter shrugged. "There are worse reasons to die."

The pair began to circle each other; anti-hero and hero in the deadly ring of challenge and speed. The rain made the only sound; its constant patter around them. It was... mourning, perhaps?

The training with Lupin, his adventures with Blair; the death of Sirius... the Tri-Wizard Tournament, rescuing Ginny from a memory,_ loving_ her... meeting Hermione on the train, seeing the Weasley's enter through the magical gateway... Having Hagrid come to his house, his parent's death, _his_ birth—they all had come down to this day. Everything that had happened to him was for this purpose.

Lightening forked forth from the dreariness and thunder crackled not far away from it. It was the signal to begin. Both wizards lifted their wands with tactile speed, moving their lips in familiar rhythm of spells.

Yes, he was born to die here.

But he sure as hell wasn't going down alone.

§

Harry swerved left, barely avoiding the jet of red light which grazed by his ear. In response, he gave a particular flick of his wrist and sent one of the lower bleacher rows flying at Voldemort.

With a swish of his cloak, Voldemort vanished and appeared safely out of the path.

"Diffindo!" Voldemort hissed in response, sending a slicing blade of magic through the air.

"Imperturbable!" Harry responded without flair; creating the clear shield around himself just as the spell hit. The effect rattled him, and he gripped his wand with a tighter hand; but the shield held. "Impedimenta!"

The words made the hex to slow, and Voldemort easily conjured his own shield. The metallic liquid spun from the tip of his wand, solidifying into a hard metal resistance. With an intricate figure-eight; Voldemort cast his next spell.

The ground below Harry exploded, sending rocks flying everywhere. With reflexes honed by Quidditch practice, he managed to leap away from the explosion seconds before it left a fair-sized crater in the soaking field. Harry rolled, feeling his body coat with mud. Blood slid down his cheek from a stray stone, and he was panting in the cool air. Wordlessly, he drew a design with his wand.

Voldemort had no time to react before his magical shield combusted. The fire spread swiftly, racing toward his long-fingered hand. The heat singed it as he released the shield, allowing the spell to dissipate. Red eyes glared back at his opponent, who had regained a stance. "Clever boy. It seems as though you've learned a few new tricks..." As he spoke, his wand moved with a mind of its own. "But don't expect _that_ to help you!"

Harry was half-way through his hex when the spell took effect.

A giant, rusty-scaled snake blossomed from Voldemort's wand; complete with predatory slitted eyes and lengthy fangs.

Harry was only thankful that it wasn't a basilisk. One fight with a mutant rooster-serpent per lifetime was plenty.

The snake coiled its massive tail up, eyes glued on the boy as he moved; waiting for a chance to strike.

It did.

Harry finished his shield in time to deflect the snake; but it shattered into translucent pieces from the assault. The acidic poison from its attempted bite made the grass smoke in the rain. It coiled back up, preparing for another attack.

Harry thought quickly. There was no evading the animal—it was faster than him; and with his shield broken he had nothing to hide behind in this field. His mind whirled for an answer.

It came to him just as the snake struck again.

With a swift rush of his wand, Harry cried out; "Expecto Patronum!"

The silvery summon caught the great reptile half-way; dipping its bright horns into the roof of its mouth. The snake hissed in pain; pulling back again and the stag stood his ground. Wasting no time, Harry moved his wand again.

"Prior Incantato!"

The spell hit Voldemort's wand straight-on and evoked its effect immediately. The glassy liquid pooled out of the wand, coiling into the form of a second large snake; its scales an olive green.

Now all Harry had was his limited knowledge of biology and a hunch.

_Please let it..._

The second summon did not disappoint. After a slow swaying and hissing between one another, the two serpents clashed. Red and green meshed and twisted together through the rain; ravaging the muddy field. It was impossible to follow; but after a time the battle between the two titans slowed and at last came to a halt.

Both snakes were dead.

"You're next, boy;" Voldemort promised, sending a sickly familiar hex.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Without bothering to counter; Harry skidded out of the way from the emerald light. As it whispered past his cloak; he could almost here voices. In some morbid part of the boy's subconscious, he wondered what it was like to die.

"This is the difference between us, Harry Potter;" Voldemort began, relaxing his poise in the slightest as a smirk wound its way onto his flat face. "the thing that separates master and reflection."

Green eyes stared back at him, masked and cool in the storm.

"I will will you Potter. I have the _will_ to kill; to savor in death," The Dark Lord continued. "but you only want to kill me. You have no real love of death." He tightened the grip on his wand again; preparing for a final assault.

"Av—"

At first, Harry thought it had been a fork of lightening that hit his enemy. However, as the being slowed and the rain fizzled on contact; he recognized the dripping hair of multiple shades.

_Blair._

"He will never need the will to take a life," She spoke with a furious sort of calm; turning her burning eyes to the man once named Tom Riddle. "Because I possess it already!" Blair swung at him, missing as he disapparated and apparated a few meters away.

Voldemort was seething. "Leave us, _Aduru_. This fight is between the boy and I."

The immortal was taking deep breaths in the rain, which continued to roll of like stream from her body. Wild eyes fixed on the leader of the death-eaters; she slowly straightened up and began to take steady steps toward him.

Harry watched, transfixed by it all. Until, he noticed something. The bent grass where his sister had stepped; a dark residue was left. Sticky and sweet and coppery. She was bleeding.

The Chosen One stepped forward in concern; and his professor turned around at the movement. Her look scorched him, and the silky, peppered voice resounded in his skull.

_Don't._

The rocking force behind the mental intrusion made him pause and Kryeen turned her attention back to the wizard.

"_Tom_," Blair spoke, a little softer and a little more forceful. "This has to end."

Voldemort laughed cruelly. "Not even you can defy fate, Aduru. I will kill the boy."

"My name is Blair, Tom;" The witch replied with that quiet force that was so terribly unlike her. "And you're right, I can't bend fate..." The water rolled across her sharp cheek. "..but you can."

Cardinal eyes narrowed. "Why would I want to do that, _Blair_? Fate is kind to those in power."

"Destiny... Fate... they are chains, Tom. You can have all the power in the world and still be held fast by those chains." Her tone was heavy, she was still approaching him with a steady ease. "And I _know_ you, Tom Riddle. You would come to hate those bindings; even more than you hate this boy."

The pale wizard hissed. "You would claim to know me; you who plays pawn to those fools?"

There was only a few feet separating them now. "You called on Death, and Death is a part of me. I know you Tom; because you have all of my malice, my vengeance, and my cruelty. But those are not traits becoming of either of us. Let it go. Free yourself. Be remembered as the mortal who walked the planes of immortality and defeated destiny itself. That is a victory worthy of greatness, Tom. This," She waved her hand across the field. "is murder. Nothing special. Nothing new. Anyone could kill a child."

Harry felt a jab of anger in his stomach. The way she was talking to Voldemort, to the greatest Dark Wizard to ever live; was almost... intimate.

Voldemort smirked. "If it is so easy; Blair, then why don't you do it. Kill the boy, or kill me. If it is that easy."

The sensual woman shook her head. "Harry... he is family, and I have lost enough of that."

Eyes widened and red irises swiveled to fix Harry with a possibly increased hatred.

"And you," Kryeen drew Voldemort back with a bitter little smirk. "If I kill you, _he_ wins. And I hate him."

The Dark Lord scowled and Potter stared at her in bewilderment.

In response, Blair pulled out the thick black book from the insides of her torn cloak and threw it by their feet. "You're his last living ancestor, though I'm sure you know that." The fire immortal began as the tall man picked up the book and began to finger through it with reverence.

"There is a tree that traces all the way to you—Salizar must have been or had a seer, but it was done with visual connotation as well. I looked through it and recognized the man... your mother married."

Contempt swept across his marble features. "A muggle?"

Blair shook her head. "You tracked him down and attempted to kill your father and his family. However, after your mother had bewitched him, Tom Riddle Sr. had versed himself in all magical lore. He learned of your coming and allowed a distant cousin of his to stay at his house and watch over his family while he ran out on a little 'errand.' You had never seen your father; so you had no idea that the man you killed that night was not him... However, the loss drove him mad and he became a vigilante against all magical kind. He resorted to kidnapping children and mutating them to death until one day... he found a girl who wouldn't break."

It was as if cotton had been draped over the entire scene; the noise simply suffocated.

"I can't kill you, Tom Riddle," she said, "because he wants me to. And I'm selfish and I'm vengeful; so I can't let him win—even as his corpse lies in the ground.

Everything was still as realization set it. It was so twisted, so completely _fucked_...

That it had to be true.

The rain fell.

She moved again.

"Tom," She was pulling them from a dream-world where Harry was paralyzed and Voldemort was reliving a failed murder.

"I'm tired."

And her brother was afraid.

Harry felt the fear well in him and searched her form over again. The tone, those words... They weren't Blair. He knew Blair. She was an annoying, bitchy, antagonistic...

The blood that was flowing wasn't coming from any specific wound; but rather it seemed to be seeping out of the _pores of her skin._ Like sweat. Mud streaked her cheek, the fiery locks clung wetly to her face...

Blair Kryeen was hurt. Badly.

Voldemort gave no reply, but apparently the Aduru Eposis had ready something into him for she turned swiftly around and placed a hand on the boy-who-lived's shoulder.

"I broke the shield around the castle," The Professor seemed to say for the man's benefit as she made a quick hand-sign with her finger.

They popped away from the field, following a second later by the swishing of a black cloak.

The rain still fell, torrenting down on the abandoned field. Desecrated and alone.

§

When Harry found himself stumbling on a carpeted hall within the same breath he had been outside; he looked straight up at his... companion. They hadn't traveled through dissaparration; he would recognize the yank around his navel. This had been more direct, and fluid. The instant it happened it was over. However, now that the shock was wearing out, the fury set it.

"What was _that_?" The green-eyed teen seethed.

Golden eyes gave him a half-hearted look before walking off down a darkened hallway.

Stung by her blow-off; Potter walked to catch up. "It was like you two were old fuddy buddies or something. He is EVIL, Professor. He gets _off_ on torturing little children. He—"

"Harry," The immortal finally cut him off, glancing back as she led the way through the familiar, ancient halls. "I am a death dealer."

She may as well have slapped him in the face.

_I did that too. _

It's what she had meant. How ironic, a DADA professor who was an incarnate of the Dark Arts herself.

Brooding, the boy stayed silent the rest of the walk. Then they reached a pair of moving gargoyles on the spiral steps and it finally clicked where they were heading...

"Blair," Scar-face unfolded his hands and frowned. "why are we going to Professor Dumbledore?"

The witch took so long to reply that he almost thought she wouldn't.

"Because he has the power to absolve Tom Riddle, and I need him. That peace-loving fool shouldn't be too hard to convince."

Potter was too worked up to bother with defending his Headmaster. "He doesn't deserve it, you know." He settled for instead.

"Voldemort doesn't deserve a second-chance; not that he'll even take it but..."

A tiny smile appeared on her face. "But isn't that what is so great about forgiveness?" A mysterious shadow fell across her eyes. "That we don't deserve it."

The seeker fell silent as they came to the large, circular door. Impulsively, he went to knock on it.

A tan, calloused hand caught his wrist half-way to the wood.

"Blair?" Harry asked with a worried look. "What is it?"

Her lips pursed. "Something 's not right..." Hawk eyes scanned the door frame. "It is as if... but... why would he..."

Between all of his teacher's babble, he heard it. The most heart wrenching sound ever to grace mortal ears. A phoenix dirge.

Faux was mourning.

Dread seized up in him, constricting his throat and churning his empty stomach. Yanking his hand from her grip, the wizard burst the door open.

"Harry don't—"

The black-haired youth raced into the room, and what he was made his heart freeze over, shatter, and try to stick itself together again.

Nothing in the office was out of place. The walls were immaculate; a number of strange instruments buzzed and whirled. The pensive misted silver from its case, and neat stacks of books remained in order.

But every portrait in the room had a mournful, dark countenance and some were openly weeping; if paintings could cry. And everything seemed pinnacled around the slouched over figure on the desk; long silver beard crinkled and blue eyes dulled. If not for that, Harry could almost have believed that Dumbledore was sleeping. But then there was lovely, brilliant Faux; whose slender neck was bent over and bright tears held no healing for his master.

The student opened his mouth to scream—and no sound came out. His lungs had doubled over on themselves, falling apart at the seams. His knees shook and he had a feeling he would have collapsed if not for the burning presence which gripped hard on his shoulder to keep his standing.

"It was Voldemort," Potter wildly scrambled for a reason. "You let him in and he's killed Dumbledore. I'll kill him... I'll KILL HIM!"

SMACK!

The immortal's powerful hand connected with his jaw, making him reel backward as the bone gave a sickening crunch. Blinking in shock and rubbing the angry spot, Harry looked up at the young woman.

"It wasn't Voldemort, Harry." She spoke crisply; and he stood, ready to slap—all of her uncaring, unflinching, and goddamn assurity—until he saw that where her hand had touched him, there was blood; and not all his. Instead, the teen curled his hand and shook with fury at some unknown force. Then she gave it a name.

"It was Death."

Death. The thing that designed the death-dealers, a sacred entity fighting a war with life.

Chartreuse eyes turned for an explanation; but Blair was facing a window, suddenly looking old as she stared out at the storm. It was beginning to thin, slowly but surely. There was some unfathomable emotion residing just below her biting calm.

"Tom," Blair called without turning around; and to Harry's shocking loathe, Voldemort stepped out from the shadows. He had been invisible, following them. And she had known.

"Harry," The said person turned away from his glaring contest to look at the corner of Blair's eyes, searching for some sign of whatever twist she had come up with.

"The war is over... and tomorrow, instead of being sad... go out with that red-head whatshername you love so much... and play some Quidditch, let the wind run through your hair and the heat through your veins... make sure to thank your friends. You have good ones, you know that. Keep them close, and... just live, Harry. Don't survive, _live_. Not for any prophecy or anyone else. Be selfish. Screw around. Just... Be your own master."

She didn't ask for compliance and gave no time for interruption as the woman once called Ally continued.

"And Tom... In a world without Ally... without Voldemort... there was a chance for us. But in this one, there is still that girl residing within my body just as insanity runs in yours... So when you see me next, I'll be free. Remember that."

Her smile was odd—true and bright and so damn torn at the very same moment. A contradiction, like the rest of her. And that image, her battered, bleeding body form oozing power and allure, burned itself in his memory.

And then she turned, back to the window; and jumped.

Harry was never sure who reached the shattered void first; but he knew that it didn't matter right then that he was in a room with his parent's murderer. All he could do was watch as a bright spit of orange flame ignited as it free-fell alongside the tower.

The lake waters swallowed her up without a ripple.

"BBBLLLLLAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRR!

§

_"An immortal cannot die. A death-dealer cannot love." Seraphina admitted_

Ally opened her eyes, all the years and the pain stripped away. She was in the forest again; its tall trees a welcome home with the sound of wolf song. She turned her pale head, looking at the person cradling her.

Tan skin, olive eyes, soft hair...

"Blayne," She sat up, her long black hair falling loose around her shoulders.

He smiled affectionately. "You had me worried, love. I thought I might have lost you for good."

_"But if you can somehow do both..." The immortal of light paused, smiling faintly. "Death looses."_

Ally touched him gently in response, cocking her head. "I never meant to leave you.

He kissed her chastely before standing, pulling the thin figure up with him. "You were only gone for a little bit. It's all forgiven now; because you're here now..." He made a sweeping gesture. "and we're not alone."

As she turned her head, she saw three people. And suddenly she was small again; and all those memories came rushing back at the sight of congenial green eyes, windswept black hair, and a doggish smile.

"Momma! Papa!" Little Ally ran forward, dragging Blayne with her. "Uncle Sirius!"

She was all smiles and innocence.

"I'm home!"

§

A/N: And this is **not the ending**. There is an epilogue after this to tie everything up and hopefully answer everyone's questions... So, was it predictable? Too over-the-top? It's almost done folks, lets pitch in a few last-ditch REVIEWS shall we?


	37. Epilogue

**_Demon in My Soul_**

_A Harry Potter Fanfiction_

§

"There are many ways to die; but few ways to live."

§

**...15 years later**

It was raining again; the droplets running down the words carved at the bottom of the glorious statue in the Silva de Sinus Carmen—the woods where a bizarre family had lived, if only for one shining moment of happiness. In that time before, with Ally and Blayne.

The rain coursed over the writing, gradually eroding the stone as its lone visitor stared.

He knew he would have to be back soon, Ginny would worry and the kids needed to be tucked into bed... and he had promised Ron and Hermione that they would watch their children while they went out shopping...

But for now, Harry Potter merely stared and thought:

Of all that was

Of all that could have been

Of that day.

Of her.

Standing in the rain beside the statue of his once-ago sister; he let his mind wander.

Blair Kryeen had died in order to seal of Death and its power. She had learned to do so in Salizar Slytherin's book—to kill an untouchable. Now all that was left was a monument.

_Blair Kryeen--_

_Beloved Professor and friend._

However underneath the meaningless scribble, concealed by magic; others had left their mark.

_My brother is waiting for you, Ally. _

The power released in her demise was able to give Daemon back his human form. Incidentally, he had been with Celia, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione; leading Hogwarts students and teachers in a victorious fight against the Dark Army at their door.

_You are my spine and my guiding flame, Professor. You gave me what I had forgotten—the will to fight._

Celia Magnatine and Daemon had been dating ever since he joined Hogwarts school. He would probably propose soon.

_I'll watch over him for you._

Ginny was on the Auror force with him now. She was watching over everyone.

_I hate you for your sacrifice—you are a stupid, self-centered woman with too much power and too little sanity... I'll miss you, because no matter what..._

Harry closed his eyes momentarily, remembering the day he had carved the words...

"..I loved you as my sister."

As the end left his mouth he noticed an inscription below his that had not been there last year when he visited.

_I will find you soon, Blair. _

Voldemort.

He knew it instinctively, impossibly, that it was him who wrote that.

Voldemort had vanished without a trace after that day. It had taken Harry a long time to come to terms with the truth. That in that warped black hole he called a heart, Blair Kryeen had lit a candle. That with whatever was left of his humanity, Tom Riddle had fallen for the immortal—her cruelty, her power, and her passion. It was that meager girl Ally he couldn't stomach.

_Why couldn't I save you, Blair?_

The jet black hairs stood up and the boy-who-lived felt himself being watched. He turned from his introspection and scanned the forest trees. In the midst of the rain, he spotted a reddish object. Squinting, he focused on it.

It was a wolf. One with burning fur; standing some distance away and staring at him with golden irises. They watched each other for a moment and then...

It howled; long and wavering and full of notation.

Laughing.

_"You did. From myself..."_

_"Thanks, Harry."_

When Potter blinked again he was lying face-down in the wet grass and the rain had stopped. Slowly, he moved; registering the sequence of events and then...

He smiled; standing up and shaking off years of guilt with the cracking sunlight.

"Stay safe..." He turned to leave, green eyes bright. "Ally Anna."

§

THE END


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